


Points of a Star

by Beastrage



Series: I promise you hope [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Awesome Kairi (Kingdom Hearts), Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Close calls with death, Disabled Character, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, Loss of Control, Loss of Limbs, Memory Alteration, Mind fuckery, Murder, Neglect, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Physical Abuse, Possession, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Strong Female Characters, Subject X is Skuld, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Survivor Guilt, Swearing, Time Travel, Torture, trinity feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-02-16 19:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 130,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18697504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beastrage/pseuds/Beastrage
Summary: Five individuals travel into the past with the intention to change the future.Too bad they end up in middle of a brewing Keyblade War. Changing the future? Guaranteed. Changing the future for the better? Less so.Good thing they've got Friendship and other Cool Stuff on their side.





	1. The Final Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will change as new chapters are added, so be sure to check whenever there's a update.

“We’re going to rely on a children’s book to get us there?”

“That sounds risky, to say the least...I don’t know about this, sorry.”

“But what else is there? If we don’t take this risk...”

“There’s nothing else. Just us.”

“That ‘children’s book’ contains the last of Merlin’s magic, actually.”

“That old coot? Then that means...”

“Yes. Our last chance.”

“Then what do we have to lose? Let’s go for it.”

**“** Time travel with the magic of a living picture book...now I’ve seen everything.”

“You jinxed us now!”

“Oh? I guess he has...”

“We should act sooner rather than later. Together?”

“All the way.”

“Together.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s go.”

 

It is a world of mirrored reflection. Sky reflecting sea, sea reflecting sky. Blue with white clouds, the horizon invisible to the viewer.

It is the last of all worlds.

The Final World.

Only the dead and dreams linger here.

But if that is so...what does that make the five strangers walking across the water?

Each one looks utterly unique in appearance, no two looking alike. One wears the black zippered coat originating from the Age of Fairytale. Another covers themselves in red Keyblade armor. One wears a cloak of white and blue, looking like the sky surrounding them. A fourth wears a hooded vest, of all things to wear. The last wears no extreme coverings and seems almost ordinary in appearance.

All stand together.

 

The blue-and-white cloaked individual in the middle takes out a book. A child’s book, of all things. One torn and faded, its magic almost gone from its tattered pages.

Almost gone, but just enough remains.

Just enough to call the Door.

A door, unlike any other, appears. Drawn to the magic the book holds. The book, without much further ado, vanishes in a poof of purple smoke. Gone. Quite possibly forever.

 

Five individuals step towards the door. Not one of them hesitate.

What other choice do they have?

There is no going back, only moving forward.

The door creaks open, without a single person having touched it. It’s ancient looking, wood through and through, covered in carvings of flowers and keys and hearts.

Possibility awaits them. A chance to change _everything_ , hopefully for the better.

“Oh, good luck!” A small cat creature chirps.

One of the individuals pauses, turning around to nod in the being’s direction. “Thank you, Chirithy.”

It’s a woman, dressed much like an ordinary individual from a world much like Twilight Town or San Fransokyo. A woman with long dark hair and brown eyes.

She is alone, the rest of her traveling partners disappeared through the mysterious door.

She is last.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Chirithy questions, paws patting at its cape. “Not that I want you to die, but...I missed you. _He_ misses you, Skuld.”

Skuld tilts her head, the reflection stretching out beneath her feet doing the same. “Well, I’ll find him then. Don’t you worry.”

And without any hesitation, she turns towards the door again and walks through.


	2. Shooting Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skuld crash-lands somewhere cold. Sora makes a new friend.

When Skuld crosses over, she walks out onto open air. Air is certainly not enough to support her, not when she was expecting solid ground on the other side, so she falls.

Falls, trips into something cold. Cold and wet.

She reaches out, poking her fingers into that cold wetness. Snow? She brings her face close, close enough to see what it is. White.

Snow.

 

She reaches into her pocket, taking out a strip of black fabric. Carefully Skuld brings it up to her face, tying it behind her head in a way the cloth could cover her eyes.

The colored blurs that surround her go away, as she returns to a familiar speckled darkness. Easier to focus, this way.

“Huuuah.” A sigh rushes past her lips into the cold air.

What next?

And where is she, exactly, among all the worlds?

With a flick of her wrist, she calls her cane to her hand. The humming of the familiar magic it holds is comforting. Warm, especially in this cold air.

“Every journey,” she mutters to herself, “Starts with a single step.”

And she takes a step, sinking slightly into the fluffy coldness. Her sneakers are almost no help against the wetness seeping into her cloud-fluffy socks.

Ugh.

She really isn’t prepared for the weather here at all. A coat would be nice. At least her leggings keep out the worst of the wind from hitting her legs.

 

The snow muffles the sound of her cane. She can only hope that there aren’t any rocks hiding underneath that might seriously trip her up.

“Aaaaaaaaaaahh.”

Skuld tilts her head. Is that someone screaming? Or maybe it’s just the wind...

“Aaaaaaaaaahh.”

There it is again. Louder. Really sounds like someone screaming now. Maybe multiple people screaming? Where is it coming from...?

“AAAAAAAAHHH!”

Three people come out of nowhere, catapulted into the snowy scene in a flurry of moving limbs and screaming.

Before she can properly judge what to do next, the three crash into her and all fly into a nearby snow drift.

“Good thing this snow’s so soft...” A boy’s voice groans.

“Sora! You’re on top of someone!” Someone else...quacks?

 _Sora_. She knows the name, though she never met him personally. Sora’s defeat and disappearance was the beginning of the end, before.

“Oh, sorry!” The weight on top of her quickly lifts, and she hears the shuffling of shoes through the powdery snow. “What’s your name?”

Skuld rubs at her face, shaking the snow out of her hair. “I’m Skuld,” she offers.

“Sorry I knocked you over, Skuld.” A pause of expectant silence.

“Um, are you offering a hand to me?” Skuld has to eventually ask. “Because I’m blind. So I can’t see it...”

“Ooooh. I’m sorry!” The kid apologizes again.

Skuld puts her hands underneath, pushing herself back onto her feet. “That’s okay. What’s your names?” She thinks she _might_ know but it’s best to play ignorant.

“I’m Sora.”

“I’m Donald,” says the quacker.

“I’m Goofy!” A third speaker says cheerfully.

“Sora, Donald, Goofy,” Skuld repeats to herself. “Nice to meet you,” she says a bit louder. “Now, what are you doing here?”

“We’re looking for Elsa! She needs our help,” Sora says.

Hm. Skuld rubs at her neck. That doesn’t really explain who this ‘Elsa’ is. Thankfully, there’s someone else in this party that can do explanations.

“Elsa’s the princess of these parts,” Goofy explains.

“We got to catch up to her!” Donald inserts, with a squishy stomp.

“Well, we should do that then,” Skuld says. She’s not exactly sure what they’re expecting from her, really.

Another pause. Something else she’s missing, then.  

“Let’s go!” With that, Sora runs off ahead. Donald and Goofy both trail after him, while Skull lingers just a moment behind.

When Ajax and Naminé had spoken about Sora, somehow they had failed to impart how _loud_ he was. Full of heart, yes. But the everything else? Indescribable. You had to be there yourself.

His heart sings with every step and Skuld’s can’t help but sing along with it. In his presence, she can’t help but believe their foolhardy plan to change fate has a chance.

Hope, like never before.

She shakes her head and follows behind the trio, slowly and carefully poking her way through the drifts through usage of her seeing cane.

 

They haven’t traveled very far until something new yet old appears. Creatures that claw their way into reality.

She hears the buzz of white noise, tuneless noise.

“Heartless!” Sora cries, putting a name to the creatures such a sound belongs to.

Heartless. It’s been so long...

She lifts her cane and quick as thought, it transforms into her Keyblade. Starlight swings into the nearest cluster of white noise she can reach.

When it seems there are too many, Skuld is about to release a quick Thunder to wipe the rest out. A sizzling sound alerts her that someone’s got there first with a Fire.

Before long, the Heartless are wiped out.

Skuld traces Starlight’s hilt with her thumb. It’s good, to use it again.

Good that she doesn’t have to hide it. Not from this good-hearted kid and his team.

 

“Whoa! You’re a Keywielder like me!” Skuld can hear Sora’s heart sing with excitement, with joy. “A super good one!”

She inclines her head, transforming her Keyblade back into her cane. “That I am. You’re pretty skilled yourself, you know.”

“You really think so?” The boy bounces all over the place, sloshing snow about crazily, and despite herself, Skuld finds herself smiling. A twitch of her lips, really, more than anything really concrete.

“Yeah, of course I think so.” There’s just something so _likeable_ about this kid, something about him that reminds her of good memories. Memories of Daybreak Town, of all places. And for some reason, he just...feels like Ventus. Something about his heart...sings just like Ventus’ did, the one time she was able to meet him, after recovering her memories.

After that one time...well, disaster struck.

Perhaps this timeline will be kinder. She certainly will work to make it so.  

A shake of her head banishes old memories. Now needs all of her focus, not the past.

Now about that Fire...

 

* * *

 

 

“Who cast that Fire?” Skuld asks. Her Keyblade’s gone, turned back into that stick she’s been carrying around.

“I did!” Sora says proudly. He could have gotten the Heartless with his Keyblade, of course. But Fire was quicker.

“I taught him that!” Donald squawks, puffing out his chest. “First spell I ever taught him.”

“Huh.” Skuld appears thoughtful, though if that’s a good or bad thing Sora’s not exactly sure.

He doesn’t know a lot about Skuld. Only three things now: her name, that she’s blind, and she has a _Keyblade_.

There aren’t a lot of adults with Keyblades. Well, kind of? Not a lot of adults _experienced_ with Keyblades, that’s it. There’s the King and really no one else right now. (And Xehanort, but he doesn’t count.)

It’s _different._

Not that Donald and Goofy aren’t a huge help, but it’s always different with another Keyblade in the mix.

(Maybe she’s a _Master._ That would be cool.)

With extra help, they’re sure to find Elsa in time!

He can’t wait.


	3. Maya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kairi wants to be more. Naminé just doesn't want to fail ever again.

In this forest of perpetual twilight, on its edge, Kairi and Axel enjoy an ice cream. Or, at least, Kairi enjoys the sweet salty taste. Every few seconds, Axel pauses in eating his to glance around the clearing.

Like he’s looking for something.

“Axel, what’s wrong?”

 

“It’s just, don’t you feel like someone’s watching us?”

Kairi glances up from her ice cream. “Now that you mention it...”

“Yeah, see? You feel it too!”

Kairi looks around, trying to catch whatever Axel’s looking for. This watcher, if they exist.

Her eyes catch white and she points, crying out, “Look over there!”

 

There is someone in the trees. Not Merlin, not anyone she recognizes.

A stranger.

A woman, judging by the shape of her body. At least that’s the excuse Kairi provides for herself. The stranger just _feels_ like a woman. Almost like Kairi knows her.

Somehow.

The stranger is taller than her. Not as tall as Axel, but few on the side of Light are, Kairi’s noticed. A woman, who wears a blue and white hooded robe. Her sleeves are long, covering her hands, while the hem of the robe is short, coming only to her knees. More of a dress than a robe, a dress with a hood. She wears tall navy boots, carefully laced up.

As Kairi watches, the woman lowers her hood. Her long hair is just as red as Kairi’s, streaked with blond. Her face...

Kairi gasps.

“You know who I am?” The woman’s melodious voice asks her.

 

Kairi knows...but it can’t be.

Naminé, within her heart, whispers the impossible answer.

Kairi looks up, to meet those blue blue eyes. Eyes just as blue as her own. “You’re Naminé, aren’t you?”

Axel speaks first. Of course. “What?! That’s crazy.” He gestures in Kairi’s direction with his ice cream stick. “Kairi, I thought Naminé was still in your heart, so how can she be here?” He points back at the stranger.

The stranger, _Naminé_ , smiles. “It’s nice to see you, Kairi. And you as well, Axel.”

“That’s very nice, are you going to explain _anything_?” Axel shoots back.

Naminé taps her chin with a single finger, seemingly deep in thought.

“No.”

 

“At least,” she adds, “Not right now.”

“Why are you here?” Kairi asks, partly in desire for an answer, partly to drown out the sound of her pounding heart by speaking out loud.

“I opened a door and it led me here. To the two of you.”

“Don’t you mean the three of us?” Kairi asks, resisting the urge to frown. Rubbing at her heart where a different Naminé resides.

Naminé inclines her head. “The three of you,” she agrees calmly.

“Why don’t you find that door and go back to where you came from? We’re busy training here,” Axel cuts in.

Naminé tilts her head. “Training?”

As one, Kairi and Axel summon their Keyblades. Axel hangs his over his shoulder. Kairi points Destiny’s Embrace out right in front of her.

“Busy becoming Keyblade Masters,” Axel says, almost smug.

“Oh, I see.” Naminé steps closer, her left sleeve hovering over the proffered Keyblade. Not touching, but just about. “Hmmm. Seems about even in strength and magic, a Keyblade of Light...can it transform yet?”

Kairi bites her lip. “...Transform?”

“No? Well, that is a pretty advanced technique, I’m not surprised it hasn’t come up yet. With more time and practice, you’ll manage it,” Naminé assures her.

 

“Check mine.” Axel shoves his Keyblade forward, within the woman’s reach. Naminé lifts a red eyebrow but complies, hand hovering over his just like it had with Kairi’s earlier.

“Equal strength and magic, also Light-aligned...pretty similar to Kairi’s. Both not quite finished. You’re both still finding your footing, after all.”

“What’d you mean, ‘not quite finished’?” Axel lifts an eyebrow, tapping at his Keyblade. “It’s a Keyblade and I can call it, so isn’t it...you know, good?”

Naminé shakes her head. “Calling a Keyblade is only the first part of the process,” she explains, slipping her hands together under the cover of her sleeves. “The more you use your Keyblade, more you sync together and your Keyblade can adjust to your ‘style.’ So to speak.”

She frowns slightly, tapping her fingers together. “At least, that’s how it works for newly forged Keyblades like your own. ‘Legacy’ Keyblades, ones that get passed down, stay pretty solidly set and the wielder has to adjust to it, rather than the other way around.”

“Oh.” It’s...strange, talking to someone who appears to know so much about Keyblades. Asking both Sora and Riku about hers hadn’t really gotten any answers. Not like this.

She wants to know _more._ Anything that can give her edge, help her catch up to Sora and Riku. She _needs_ to.

Inside her heart, Naminé hums.

“ _Do you think I could be like her?”_

Kairi hums back. _“I think you can be yourself, Naminé.”_

_“She’s older. I didn’t know I could live to be that old,”_ Naminé breathes.

Kairi’s heart aches. “ _You will. We both will. I promise.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Light, they’re so _young._

Not that Naminé’s much older than Axel, biologically speaking. But these past versions of the people she once knew are so very different. Less war-torn, less wary.

Part of her is thankful they aren’t attempting to drive her away. The rest of her wants to grab the two by the shoulders and scream, _what are you doing, talking with a stranger that could hurt you!_

At least, let Kairi know that she should be careful. Axel watches her, she knows, but still isn’t quite cautious enough.

They’re not ready, either of them, for what’s coming.

It’s easier to talk about Keyblades. Far harder to actually talk _to_ the individuals standing before her. But she’ll manage it.

She has to.

 

“Who is your teacher?” she pushes out, past the lump in her throat.

“Merlin,” Axel answers, green eyes carefully not looking away.

_Merlin_. Naminé almost chokes. Merlin is many things, a fantastic and worlds-changing wizard among them, but a teacher for Keywielders?

Not in a thousand years.

“Ah,” is all she say in response to that unpleasant revelation, a bit faintly.

 

“How do you know so much about Keyblades?” Kairi asks. Naminé almost physically shudders when those blue eyes gaze up at her curiously.

(A Keyblade of gold and flower. Shattering. Impossible.

“Some things can’t be fixed. Now, give me your hand...”

Screaming. Pain. So much pain.)

Naminé runs her tongue against her teeth, driving back old phantoms with the scratching. “I wanted to know more. So I learned.”

“Seems kinda strange, if you ask me.” Axel scratches at his head, banishing his Keyblade back into nothingness. “That someone who magically knows everything about Keyblades just pops up out of nowhere, looking like a person we both trusted. Too perfect, almost.”

Ah. There’s that suspicion she almost hoped for, earlier.

 

But before Naminé can say anything, Kairi speaks up first. “We can trust her, Axel. She’s Naminé.” The girl places a hand over her heart. “I can feel it.”

Ah, _hearts._ Naminé places a covered hand over her own heart, weak as it is. What good has having a heart ever done her? She’s whole, now, but at terrible cost.

“I can help you. If you want,” the former Nobody offers. “But if you want me to leave, I can do that as well.”

“Can we talk about this?” Axel asks.

Naminé nods, wishing once more she hadn’t dropped her hood. “Of course. I’ll wait.” She turns away, to find a nearby tree to lean against.

Will they turn her away? She hopes not. There is so much to do, so much to change. Naminé could do so much elsewhere if they reject her. She could probably do more away from here.

But her heart hurts at the thought. She _wants_ to stay here, help Kairi. Help Kairi succeed where the future version of her failed.

Naminé tilts her head up, looking at light coming through the leaves far above.

Quiet here. Calm here. It’s been so long...

Her heart aches once more.

 

“Ahem.”

Naminé looks up at the cough. The two, it seems, have finished their discussion. She awaits, with bated breath, for either rejection or acceptance.

“Can you stay?” It’s Kairi, of course, who asks her. “Stay and help us?”

Naminé should say no. But she can’t. Not to Kairi.

“I will make you strong,” she promises. To both her audience and herself.

“Let’s get started.”


	4. Obsidian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ajax finds people in the Dark. Riku finds someone he never expected to see in the flesh.

He walks out into Darkness. If he was the type to believe in Fate, he might even believe it to be another sign of a Fate doomed to Darkness.

But he doesn’t believe that. He’s not  _ Riku _ , after all, no matter how much he spent trying to convince himself he was.  

Darkness, Darkness everywhere. He glances around, letting his eyes adjust to the low light emitted by the surrounding crystals. 

Now, why was he  _ here _ ? 

Maybe his form had influenced the door? He glances down at his dark skin, before sighing. Just like “Ansem” to cause more hassle, even years and years after his obliteration at Sora’s hands.  

But it’s not Ansem’s body, anymore than it’s Riku’s. No, this body is  _ his _ . Now and forever. Until he dies. 

Whenever that will happen. 

 

The replica that once called himself Riku, now going by the name of Ajax, looks around at the surrounding Darkness. Looks around, picks a direction, and heads off into the Realm of Darkness. 

The Realm of Darkness is fluid. Where the Realm of Light’s Worlds stay mostly the same in formation, the Realm of Darkness is always changing. Always looks different, depending on the individual wandering into it. 

The only thing that ever stays the same, ironically, is the coastline touching the infinite sea. The Dark Margin. 

So if Ajax keeps going  _ this  _ way...he should make it to the Margin eventually. And from there, decide what to do next. No point in worrying about time, he’s already screwed on that. Just...keep going. 

His heart thumps strangely in his chest. Once, twice, three times. Hm.

He pauses, taking a moment to reach out for his Keyblade. Night’s Path shapes itself from the surrounding Darkness, gleaming its usual strange lowlight. 

**“** Show me the way,” he whispers, listening to both Keyblade and heart. 

Night’s Path dims and brightens, slightly moving his entire arm until it stops somewhere off to the right.    
“Alright. Right it is.” 

 

Encounters with various Heartless (it’s been so  _ long _ ) aren’t too hard for him, stocked up on various Curatives and at full strength. But they are  _ annoying _ , popping up whenever he stops to readjust to the shifting surroundings. 

At least, until he figures out that covering himself with an Illusion allows him to escape their sight or whatever Heartless use to find targets. They still pop up, sure, but thanks to his Illusion, they spend their time looking around cluelessly instead of attacking him

Nice. 

So Ajax continues like this for who knows how long, following the direction of his pointing Keyblade. Maybe a little weird, but Ajax stopped caring about appearances a long time ago.  

 

Hm? People, here in the Realm of Darkness? 

He banishes his Keyblade and strengthens his Illusion. Creeps closer, one step at a time. 

Two people, wandering in the Dark. Both are pretty familiar to him, in different ways. 

One’s King Mickey. The other’s...a kid with silver hair. A kid that looks like Riku. Riku before everything went to hell. 

Why are they down here? As far he knows, there should be nothing down here to interest the pair. Unless he’s missing what time period he’s landed himself in. 

Well, the only way to get answers is to ask, he guesses. 

So he banishes the illusion and waits. Waits for them to see him, for him to be able to ask  _ exactly  _ what’s going here.

 

* * *

 

This is the Realm of Darkness. There aren’t supposed to be any people down here. Just Riku, Mickey, and Aqua, who they’re currently looking for. 

Yet there’s someone standing right in front of the pair. 

Waiting for them. 

Riku’s first thought is  _ Ansem.  _ The stranger certainly has the same dark skin, the same silver long hair. 

But Ansem never had such blue eyes. Besides, Ansem wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing the stranger’s outfit. 

A padded orange vest, with a hood? Ripped jeans paired with dark cowboy boots? Yeah, Ansem had leaned towards something a little less...ordinary and something little more Dark. 

“Who are you?” Riku demands. “Why do you look like Ansem?”

“Oh, and here I thought you would ask why I look like you.” The stranger taps a foot against the ground, hands in his pockets. “Silly me.” 

“But you don’t look like me. You’re...” Riku hesitates, just a second, before going right into it. “Like Ansem.” 

The stranger laughs. “I’m not Ansem, anymore than I’m you. You’re you and I’m me. Don’t be ridiculous.” 

That familiar phrasing...no, the individual wasn’t Ansem, anymore Riku was. A replica? But who would make a replica of him trapped in the form of Ansem? Maybe it was an accident? Stranger things had happened. 

 

“How did you find us?” Mickey asks, bringing up his Keyblade to point in the newcomer’s direction. 

The newcomer smiles, well  _ smirks,  _ actually, as he places a hand over his heart. “Every heart is connected and replicas are more closely connected than most to those they mimic. I tracked you that way.” 

“But I thought you said you were your own person,” Riku tries. His palms itch. Honestly, this is the most positive interaction he’s ever had with his own replica, not counting the most recent disembodied talks he’s gone through lately. 

Which isn’t saying much, honestly. Not when ‘attempted murder’ fits into the list of past interactions. 

“I can be my own person and still admit my origins come from you first.  It’s not black and white, Riku, not one or the other.” The replica raises an eyebrow. “Unless you don’t actually believe the ‘I use both Light and Dark’ spiel that you give people?”

“Wait,” Mickey interjects, looking back and forth between the two of them. “If you don’t mind me asking, exactly who are you?”

“I’m his replica.” “He’s my replica.” The two say at the same time. 

Mickey lets out a sound of comprehension. “Oh.” The mouse places a hand on his chin, letting his Keyblade disperse. “So what are you doing here, um, Riku’s replica?”

“If you need a name, call me Ajax,” The replica offers, instead of any real answer to Mickey’s question. And then dives directly into another question of his own. “Who are you looking for? I’ll help.”

Riku watches ‘Ajax’ warily, keeping Braveheart out. Just in case. “A Keyblade Master named Aqua.” 

Ajax frowns. “So she’s still down here.” Riku can barely hear the replica mutter under his breath. “Huh.”

_ Still.  _ Riku logs the word choice away for later consideration. He’s not sure what it means yet, but he’s sure more information will shed light on that mystery, along with the mystery of a replica tracking him down in the Realm of Darkness. 

“Do you work for the Organization?” Riku asks. 

Ajax lets out a single laugh. “Never. Any other questions you want to ask?” He folds his arms over his chest, tapping his fingers on his arm. Again, looking uncomfortably similar to Ansem in the process. 

_ Plenty,  _ Riku wants to say. But there’s not enough time to ask them all. Not when Aqua still down here, possibly in trouble. 

“Do you have anything to fight the Heartless with?” Mickey pips up. 

“Don’t worry about me.” Ajax turns away, turns towards the direction of the Dark sea ahead of them. He doesn’t take out a weapon, but instead remains unarmed. 

“Mickey...should we-?” Riku gestures at Ajax’s back.

“I don’t think we have a choice, Riku,” Mickey replies. “I think he’s determined to come with us, no matter what we say.”

“Yeah.” Riku breathes out. “You’re right. Just have to be careful, then.”  

Though he’s not sure if that will be enough, for whatever lies down here. 

For whatever happened to Aqua. But she’s strong. She’ll be fine. 

Even if they have to be in the company of a replica while looking for her. 


	5. Classical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx makes a Plan.

A dark cloaked figure walks through a door. A door to a fallen city, full of shadows and broken memories. A place that barely exists on the very edges of Darkness. 

It’s a world that the cloaked individual in question once knew very well indeed. 

 

The individual once known as, and currently known as, Demyx slumps. 

“Noooo,” he moans to himself. Quietly, of course. No need to draw the attention of the city’s more unpleasant inhabitants. 

“ _ Demyx, are you okay?”  _ a young voice calls out mentally. 

He rubs at his chest. “Could be better. But fine.”

_ “Are you sure? Because you don’t seem very happy that you’re here. Wherever here is.”  _

“Yeah, I’d thought I’d left this place behind forever.” Demyx puts one hand on the back of his neck, careful not to knock off his hood in the process. “Guess I wouldn’t be that lucky.” 

_ “Where is here? It’s...very strange.”  _

“It’s called the World That Never Was. Never had another name, as far I know.” Demyx shivers, glancing nervously at the surrounding buildings and alleyways. 

The place is a wreck, even more of a wreck than his broken memories inform him of it being. Buildings flopped over on each other, piece of road tossed here and there. Like some giant had gotten bored and started throwing about pieces of the world for fun. 

Now, where is that castle...? 

Demyx doesn’t want to go back, of course, but he’s not sure he gets a choice here. Surely there’s a reason that door dropped him off here and he’d like to find out why, before he leaves this world behind and never comes back. 

_ “Oh, look over there!” _

“Um...” Demyx pokes at his chest. “You know I can’t see whatever you’re looking at, right? Since you don’t have fingers to point with?” 

“ _ Oh yeah...look up towards the sky, to the left.”  _

“Hmmm. That...doesn’t look good.” 

The Castle That Never Was is...leaning. For lack of better word. Still floating, but not quite upright. There are also a few towers missing, chunks taken out of its base. 

“Hm. Wonder if anyone still lives there.” 

_ “We should check, just in case.”  _

Demyx sighs. “Oh man, that sounds like a  _ terrible  _ idea.” He squares his shoulders and starts to walk towards the castle anyway, despite his complaint. 

 

Now, getting to the castle is one thing. Just a little bit closer and he’ll be able to more accurately aim his Dark Corridor, instead of settling for the default. Not that there’s anything  _ wrong  _ with the default, doing the default means less work. 

But the default also means landing in the middle of the Grey Room, which may or may not be filled with Organization members. Members that would not be his friends.

Especially if his ‘other’ is currently dead at the moment. Which he probably is, along with bunch of other Organization members, judging how Demyx never recalled the castle ever looking so damaged. At least, in his past,  _ before  _ his Nobody ‘died.’ Any remaining members would all shoot first and ask questions later, and... _ ouch _ . 

He shivers at the thought, rubbing at his shoulders. Resisting the urge to rub at his Keyblade-created scars, still littering his form. Still aching. 

 

“I think that tower right there-” he points, “-looks pretty sturdy, don’t you?”

“ _ Try it! But be careful!”  _

“That’s me, super careful.” 

“... _ I thought it was super lazy, according to your memories.”  _

Demyx waves a hand. “Details. They’re almost the same thing.” With the hand wave, he creates a Dark Corridor and walks through, ending up on his target of the choice. 

This tower, thankfully, is still connected to the main structure, so he doesn’t have to play the ‘hop-through-the-Dark-Portals’ game. 

He rubs a hand against the nearest wall and takes a careful breath. Home sweet home. Or is it ‘Cult sweet cult’?

Now, what did the Castle That Never Was have to offer? Food, spare clothes (or Organization coats), a place to possibly sleep...

“ _ You remember a library, somewhere. I think.”  _

Demyx snaps his fingers. “That’s right! I never used it...but it could be useful now. I bet the team would love it if I brought back a few good books.”

Maybe he could grab his partner a trashy romance. Be hilarious, to see him violently deny Demyx’s offer and throw the book in Demyx’s face, only for said book to vanish a few hours later, when he thought Demyx wasn’t paying attention anymore. That’s what happened every other time, at least. 

“It’s pretty useful, having someone in there to sort out what’s handy and what’s not in my memories. Thanks.” 

“ _...It’s the least I can do, with you helping me like this.” _

“Only until we find you a body,” Demyx reminds his passenger. “You don’t want to be in there for too long.” 

“ _ But where are you going to find me a body?” _

“Huh.” Demyx’s fingers tap on the wall as he thinks through the possibilities. Which aren’t a lot. It’s not like bodies grow on trees or anything. 

Maybe a Nobody, like a Dusk? Grab one of those, shove the heart inside...that might not work, though. For one thing, Dusks were hard to catch. Especially if you didn’t have the ability to summon them anymore. Second, a Lesser Nobody’s body wasn’t exactly...human-shaped. Probably not the best place to put a human heart. 

But that might be the only option available. Unless...

 

His fingers stop tapping on the wall. “Hey, there are labs here, right? Check on that, will you?”

_ “Um...yes, someone called Vexen has ‘science stuff’ in your memories?”  _

Demyx grins, as far as his cheeks will let him. “Perfect. That old creep’s the type to have bodies growing off trees. We’ll check his labs.” 

He fist pumps. “Yes! I have a plan!”

First step, find the lab. Second, check the lab. Since Vexen was dead, even if the rest of the Organization was still around, they wouldn’t be in the labs since they belonged to Vexen. 

Third step, Demyx is sure to find something in there. If not a body, then possibly some kind of container he could put his passenger’s heart in. Somewhere safer. And he’s pretty quick too, so if anyone spotted him, he could easily get away. So then, fourth step, escape.

Perfect. Simple. Easy. 

Nothing could go wrong.

 

* * *

 

There’s Something in the Castle. Or a Someone.  

What it is...No. i does not know. Only that is foreign and not supposed to be here. This ‘stranger’ could possibly be one of the ‘Lights’ No. i was created to fight, but the ‘stranger’ does not feel like Light. Or rather, what No. i is told Light feels like: burning and bright. Pain. 

No, the ‘stranger’ is Dark. Dark like Organization XIII is. 

Does that make the ‘stranger’ part of the Organization then and not really a ‘stranger’ as a result? No. i doesn’t know. 

 

No. i is supposed to stay with ‘Saïx.’ But No. i is also supposed to take care of intruders and traitors, if there are any. 

So No. i tracks the ‘stranger.’

Tracks them and waits. 


	6. Vanitas Remnant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas is, and always will be, an ass.

Dusty rocks underneath his boots, ancient keyblades stuck in the ground for as far as he can see.

Yep, he’s in the Keyblade Graveyard. Which only makes sense, that the door would send him here of all places.

He was created here and died here (once). Came back here. Everything that shaped his miserable life happened here. Of course the next stage of his life would happen here as well.

Hell.

 

There’s something on the horizon. Something that wasn’t there before. And he would know, having spent so long training on this world. Living here, among the dust.

He walks towards the...whatever-it-is. Gotta get a closer look, before making any snap judgements.

Vanitas tilts his head, a frown growing underneath the helmet of his Keyblade armor.

Pillars? Thirteen rock pillars, of various heights, all reaching up towards the sky.

Huh. Who built them? How is this Keyblade Graveyard different from the one he knew? He walks to the closest pillar, placing a gloved hand on it.

“Who are you?”

Vanitas jerks at the sudden voice, free hand grasping for his Keyblade. A very familiar voice, coming from off to the side.

He knows that voice very well. He did live over a decade with that _being_ his very voice, after all. Under his helm, Vanitas swallows his first response (sarcasm of some kind, that’s for sure) and stays silent. His fingers go back to tracing the roughness of the stone pillar.

He listens.

 

There.

The whirl of a Keyblade summoning, along with the jangle of a keychain and the hiss of something tearing through the air-

He whirls around, just in time to catch the Keyblade coming for his head with his own. Void Gear presses against the relatively newer Last Requiem.

“Oh, you have a _Keyblade_. But can you fight with it?” His younger self hisses.

It’s hard, not to talk. He wants to tell his younger self where to shove it _so bad_ . But the risk is too great. His voice has changed, now that he speaks for ‘two’. But at times, it leans one side more than the other. And wouldn’t _that_ be hard to explain, sounding just like his younger self. Or his lighter half.

So. He can’t talk. Vanitas settles with shoving back Void Gear instead, and a knee to the gut. Dark armor is tough, but specially forged Keyblade armor is tougher. He feels it give, just a bit.

His younger self staggers back, gasping for breath. Looks painful.

Vanitas would feel bad, but this is _him_ , after all. A past version of himself. And Vanitas has always deserved an ass-kicking, in both the past and the present.

He _could_ rush forward, take advantage of the opening he’s created.

Vanitas doesn’t.

 

Well, doesn’t do anything more than reaching out to shove at younger Vanitas’ shoulder. Toppling him onto the dusty ground.

And walks away. Letting Last Requiem vanish back into the Dark.

Why the hell did the door drop him _here_? There’s nothing here, nothing but the dead and the past.

 _Those pillars..._ there’s thirteen of them.

Swing. Vanitas side-steps, avoiding an attack from Void Gear. Swipe. He steps back, avoids another hit.

Why thirteen? It’s Organization XIII all over again. Why is thirteen so important?

And...he glances over at his younger self, looking him over again to take in details he hadn’t cared for previously. Why is _this_ Vanitas wearing a black coat like Demyx’s, the Organization’s, over his Dark armor? The Xehanort Vanitas remembered from his past had never insisted on such attire for him, just the armor.

Something had _changed._

This wasn’t the past he remembered.

 

A crackle of a Shotlock charging up. Vanitas closes his eyes and _focuses_ , bringing up a Dark Barrier. Not one of his best spells, but hey, he’s bored. Could always use more practice with it.

Just enough to bounce away the dark bolts shooting in his direction. Then gone again, with a swipe of his hand and the opening of his eyes.

His younger self walks into Vanitas’ line of vision, lowering his Keyblade slightly. “You’re Dark,” he says, sounding almost...interested?

“So?”

“Fight. Me.” The younger Vanitas readies himself once more in a battle stance.

Vanitas raises an unseen eyebrow under his helm. Seriously? Did this kid have nothing better to do than challenge random passerby? (No, he doesn’t. _You_ never did.)

“No.”

The kid (because that’s all he is, a _kid_ ) launches himself at him in a flash of Darkness. Too bad Vanitas isn’t there to meet him.

Another whack to the shoulder and the kid falls onto his back. Put too much of his balance into his attack, too much force without a counterforce to fight against.

A problem Vanitas had suffered from _forever_ , before Cloud had gently corrected him (read: beaten into his thick skull).

 

“Look, idiot, I’m gonna give you some advice.” Vanitas squats down, next to the younger version of himself. He taps that glassy faceless mask, once, twice. “Learn to take no for an answer and you’ll have a less painful life.”

“Go fuck yourself,” the kid spits back. He attempts to jump back onto his feet, only to be stopped by an armored hand on his chest.

“I’ll pass,” Vanitas says, with a snort. He leans forward, pressing his younger self’s back into the dirt. “I have a few questions you can answer for me. First, who brought you here?”

“Eat...shit...”

“Answer.” He digs in with a foot a little more.

“Master Xehanort,” his younger self hisses.

 _Xehanort..._ but he’s dead!

Most times, his voice mixes and merges the two different tones that create it. Sometimes, in times of stress, one pitch will sound louder than its twin.

In this case, it’s entirely _Ventus_ ’ voice that cries out, “Xehanort!?”

 

“You sound like Ventus. Why do you sound like _Ventus_?” In the light of this World, it’s pretty easy to see his past self’s shadow begin to shake. Boil, almost.

Fuck. Vanitas bites his tongue. Hard enough to draw salty blood. Too late he remembers the reason he hadn’t been talking to begin with. Screw-up.

 **_WHAM_ **.

Vanitas reels back, lifting his hand up to his face. To his metal visor, cracked from taking the full force of Void Gear.

And here he thought upgrading to Keyblade armor would fix the problem of having his full-face visors broken through. Stupid. Of course it wouldn’t, his luck’s just that terrible.

 

Now it’s his turn to get shoved onto his back, with a Keyblade in his face.

He breathes out once. Lays there, waiting for his next opening.

A rough hand reaches out to forcefully yank the twisted warped metal from his visor. It snaps, the sound loud in the sudden silence.

Vanitas blinks, his left eye now exposed to the elements. A single _blue_ eye. Blood trickles out from a cut just underneath it.

“Who _are you_.”

 

* * *

 

 

For the majority of his short existence, Vanitas had known who he was, why he existed, and what he needed to do.

Even small complications like _time travel_ and Ventus sleeping his life away _again_ hadn’t changed that.

Now, everything could change. And he’s not sure what that means.

 

This stranger....this stranger was _different._ And maybe, not a stranger at all. Someone with Ventus’ voice and Ventus’ blue eyes.  

“Take off your helmet,” he demands. “ _Now._ ”

His hands are shaking. Why are they shaking?

The stranger slowly sits up. Taps one finger on the side of his helmet. The armor does as it is designed to do, folding back. Enough to see his face.

A face that’s not Ventus’. A face Vanitas never would have expected.

Older, but still recognizably _his. His_ face with a blue eye and red eye staring back at him. A face with blood dribbling several cuts on it, cuts that must be from Void Gear. A lip curls. “Happy?” That _voice_ asks him smugly.   
Sounding like Ventus, but also like him. His voice and Ventus’ combined.  

A flurry of Axe Flappers break away from his shadow, winging into the far away sky. Void Gear vanishes from his numb fingers.

“What? You’re me?”

The ‘him’ leans back on his palms, placed flat against the ground. “Yes and no.”

What kind of answer was that!? Just as confusing as his Master’s speeches.

Wait...Master Xehanort’s plans...that weird younger Xehanort, and time travel.

“You’re from the future,” he states firmly.

His future self lifts his eyebrows. “Huh, I didn’t think you’d actually guess right. Not bad.”

The...compliment (is that what it was?) leaves a strange feeling in Vanitas’ gut. He pushes it aside, turning towards the current situation instead.

 

The voice, the eyes, all part of his future self...there’s really only one conclusion to draw.

“So I fuse with Ventus at some point.” Looks like he ends up winning that fight in the end. He finds himself grinning at the thought, under his visor.

All that trouble, all that fighting...worth it, seeing that he gets what he wants most.

(To be whole.)

(And he doesn’t even have to stop existing for it to happen.)

“When? When do we merge?”

“After Xehanort’s dead.”

“Master Xehanort...dies?” That couldn’t be true. The Keyblade Master was so much stronger than himself, there was no way his plan could fail. None of his plans so far had. But his future self stood before him, whole.

“So he dies...” Vanitas slowly nods, tapping Void Gear’s hilt. “He has to die for me to be whole.”

“You know he would never want you, me, _us_ to be whole,” the older Vanitas growls, eyes glowing in the paleness of his face. “How would have he gotten his precious _X-Blade_ without tearing us in two? How would have he gotten his new body without a minion to play the bad guy?”

Vanitas can feel his blood rising, his half-heart thumping. His shadow hisses and boils, ready to unleash more Unversed out to the world. But he fights it down, breathing heavily.

No, it can’t be true. No, this might be a trick.

“Wait...are you really me? Really whole? Prove it to me.”

The other Vanitas holds his hand. His left hand. One minute, there’s nothing. The next, a weapon is there, completely formed from a see-through blueish glass.

A Keyblade.

Its name comes to Vanitas’ lips instantly. “ _Missing Ache_.”

 _His_ Keyblade, back from when he was Ventus and remembered, faded memories that only he has now and his other half lacks.

Vanitas looks up from Missing Ache and meets those mismatched eyes.

“What do we do next?”


	7. North Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skuld speed-runs through Arendelle. A plot begins and the Organization becames aware of another piece added to the board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assume most events happened the same as in the game. I'm not rewriting that. But soon, eventually, I'll getting off-rails with Skuld. For right now, everything's still on track. Kind of.

There are a great deal of Heartless attacking them as they come down the mountain. Both she and Sora face the bulk of the swarms, at least compared to Donald and Goofy. Part of being a Keyblade bearer, of course. But Sora always faces far more than even she does. 

Might have something to do with his heart, how it shines so bright and sings so loud compared to anyone else she’s met. Like the boy has more than one heart. 

Impossible, of course. But she can’t help wondering...what if? 

 

Wind and ice like this, she’ll freeze if they’re out in this much longer. All four of them will. Time to pull off a trick she learned from some Fire-specialists that called themselves ‘firebenders.’ 

She breathes in. Out. Stoking her inner fire, pulling on the magic sitting in her core. 

Slowly, but surely, Skuld begins warming the surrounding air with her beath. Enough for warmth, but not enough to bring Fire out into the open.

Warm enough that Sora and the others stop shivering. Still cold, of course. Noticeable to the observant. 

She doesn’t think they’ll notice. That’s fine. As long as no one freezes in the meantime of getting down this stupid mountain. 

 

A hassle and a half, but they eventually make it. All four of them. 

“Watch out, there’s ice here!” Goofy calls out.

She nods and slows her pace just enough not to slip. “Thank you!” Skuld shouts back in his direction.  

“No problem!”

This world....Skuld grits her teeth. Why does everything have to be so much  _ snow _ and  _ ice  _ and  _ cold _ !? 

Suddenly there is a loud cry. “Noooo!” Something shatters. 

And then, they’re stuck. Darkness buzzing around their feet. “Ah!” A Darkness that creeps up, no matter how hard they struggle and swallows them whole.

 

Skuld lands on her feet. Like she always does. But now the ice and snow of before is full of Darkness, she feels it itching on her skin. Rooting in her bones. 

Loud thumps. And a howl. The buzz of noise getting louder and louder.

A Heartless. A big one. 

“Do you really think this will help Anna?” Goofy.

“I don’t know, but we better try something.” Sora.

“Let’s get it!” Definitely Donald. 

The Heartless howls once more, and sweeps forward in attack. Let the battle begin. 

 

Chipping away at it works, but Skuld feels that she can do something more. Something  _ bright.  _

“You three, close your eyes!” Though she can’t see it, she knows the entire edge of her Keyblade glows. Charging up for the biggest, most flashy magic she can muster with only a few seconds to spare. 

Skuld’s used to fighting on her own. Carrying her own weight. Not there’s anything wrong with that. 

But sometimes...

You just have a little bit of  _ Faith _ , in your friends. 

“Light!” she cries, holding Starlight up high. From experience, Skuld knows the command produces an unbearably bright flash of Light magic, enough to confuse and blind any opposing foes. Not to damage them, but cast instead to buy time. 

Time enough for her companions to cast a quick Cura and continue the fight. 

The Heartless howls and Skuld can hear the thwacks of weapons meeting shadow flesh. The Heartless is certainly big enough that she can go attack it herself without the threat of hitting any allies. 

She doesn’t. Instead the woman stays back, allowing Sora to finish the beast off. 

Let Sora take this monster. There’s something else here...

Something falling from the sky. A new heart...with a body made of snow?

It drops down, roaring, as it takes the Heartless’ final blow. 

Well. That was unexpected. 

But the blow, despite there being another to mitigate still manages to knock them all over. 

 

When Skuld wakes, there’s a person. Watching them. Talking to Sora. Hard to hear of the loudness of both speaking, especially when her ears are still ringing. But also hard to hear for another reason...

This person...Skuld strains her ears. Metaphorically. 

There’s...nothing. Nothing but an echo and a low low thrum that surely can’t belong to this woman. Like she doesn’t have a heart at all. 

“You’re a Nobody.” Skuld speaks for the first time, drawing both the trio’s and Larxene’s attention to her existence. 

Larxene sneers. “What of it? And who are you, hanging out with these losers?”

“Leave Skuld alone!” Sora shouts back, shifting back and forth on his feet in a battle-ready stance. 

Larxene scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you should stop playing around and start gathering your Lights,  _ brat _ .” 

“Maybe you should leave.” Skuld lifts her staff to point in Larxene’s approximate direction. “And what’s this about ‘his lights’?” 

Larxene puts a hand over her mouth as she laughs. “You mean, he didn’t  _ tell  _ you? Oh, that’s  _ fantastic. _ ” 

Sora glares at her, lifting his Keyblade in warning. 

Larxene, being Larxene, completely ignores him. She strides over to Skuld, looking her up and down. “I  _ would  _ tell you more, but you know, things to do, places to see. Better hurry up with your Lights, would  _ hate  _ to use the Princesses instead.”

“What about the Darknesses, then?” Sora shoots back. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on those?”

Larxene smiles. “Oh, we’ve already got everyone.” And with that, she vanishes into the Darkness. Poof. 

“They’ve already got all Thirteen?” Sora looks back at both Goofy and Donald. “Uh oh...”

“Can anyone explain to me  _ exactly what is going on _ ?”

 

* * *

 

“Thirteen Darknesses and Seven Lights? All to fight a Second Keyblade War?”

“Yep,” Sora nods his head.

“That’s...crazy. Stupid.” Skuld shakes her head back. “The first one destroyed the World. A second one...no one may end up surviving.” 

She taps her fingers on her staff.

“And that Nobody, I feel like I know her, somehow...” Skuld paces back and forth, tapping her staff against the ground. “But how? Is there possibly a way I can find that out?”

“Does she look familiar?” Sora asks. 

“Sora, she couldn’t see Larxene, remember?” Donald sighs.

“Oh yeah, I forgot...” Sora blushes. 

“That’s alright,” Skuld assures him. “But I’m still curious about this ‘Larxene.’” She taps her fingers on her staff, wrinkling her nose in thought. 

“Y’know, Nobodies’ names are the mixed up names of their Somebodies with an X added. Maybe you should try writing it out,” Goofy suggests. 

Sora blinks, jaw dropping. “Really? They are? That’s so weird.” 

Donald scoffs, placing his hands on his hips. “Sora, I  _ knew  _ that too. You don’t?” 

“He actually didn’t,” Goofy stage-whispers, “I figured it out at Master Yen Sid’s tower and told him.”

“Goofy! Don’t tell him that!”

“Aha!” Sora points dramatically at Donald. “I knew it!”

 

There’s giggling. Something high-pitched, with a bit of snorting thrown in. Sora glances over at Skuld and sure enough, she’s laughing. The sound is a bit weak and hesitant, like she’s forgotten how, but the laugh gets stronger the longer it goes on. 

Sora grins to himself. 

Finally. He knew he could do it. 

Skuld smiled, but they were all small I’m-humoring-you smiles. Whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, her lips would right away slip back into a frown. 

Just like Riku, for months after defeating Xemnas. 

But eventually, Sora got Riku to smile. To  _ really  _ smile. And one day, he would do that for Skuld. 

 

Well, that was a project that would take a while. Now, they were focusing on Nobodies. Like Axel. Wait. Axel or...Lea. Huh.

Sora scratches his head. “I guess that explains why Axel wants to be called Lea now, if Lea’s his name without the X.”

“Larxene...I don’t know how to spell that.” The corner of Skuld’s mouth quirks in a half-smile. “Also...” She gestures at her face, at the blindfold over her eyes. 

“Oh yeah.” Sora laughs, a little sheepishly. “But I don’t know how to spell it either...” 

“That’s alright, Sora! I have it written down right here!” 

Sora yelps at Jiminy’s sudden reappearance, like he always does. Skuld’s reaction is...a bit more extreme. 

She transforms her staff into a Keyblade with a bright flash and just about swings it at Sora’s head. Sora brings his hands up. 

“Whoa, don’t worry, it’s just Jiminy!”

“Oh...” A slight red flush touches Skuld’s cheeks as she lowers her Keyblade. Said Keyblade transform back to her more familiar staff. “I’m sorry about that.” 

“That’s quite all right, miss.” Jiminy touches his hat, nodding in her direction. He pulls out a small booklet and pen. “Now, you said you needed the spelling of Larxene...?”

“If you would.” Skuld nods back at the cricket. 

“All righty. It’s L-A-R...”

As Jiminy spells out the Nobody’s name, Sora finds his mind wandering. How  _ was  _ Skuld here? Elsa and Anna hadn’t known what a Heartless was, or a Keyblade, so they hadn’t known Skuld. And if Sora knew Skuld, she had a good heart and would have helped out the two princesses had she known anything about their troubles. 

So where did she come from? Where had she been?

“Do you have any friends looking for you?”

Skuld’s head turns towards him, her face looking a little surprised. “Where did that question come from?”

Oh. Sora feels his face warming up at that. Again. 

Donald flaps a hand at her. “Don’t mind, Sora, he does stuff like all the time. What about your friends?”

“Oh.” She frowns. Looking sad again. “Well, we had to split up. But I’m sure we’ll find each other again.” 

“Of course you will!” Sora beams. “When hearts have strong connections, they’ll always be able to find each other. Especially friends.” 

“I hope so.” A small smile. Skuld bites at her lower lip, fingers tapping on the handle of her staff. “Larxene. L-A-R-X-E-N-E. No X, has one L, one A, one R, an N and two Es. Hm. I can’t help but feel that I know her somehow...”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Sora says helpfully. 

Skuld nods back. “I’m sure I will. Now, where to next?”

“To our Gummi Ship, of course! After saying good-bye to Elsa and Anna.”

“Ah, of course. It’s...been a while.” Skuld glances away, hand tightening around her staff. “Can I come with you? I don’t...have a ride.” 

“Of course you can,” Sora says. 

“We’ll have to pull out the extra seating...” Donald grumbles in the background. But it’s not a no. Definitely not a no. 

“C’mon, let’s go!” He reaches out to tap at her wrist, to let her take his hand. 

And she does.

 

* * *

 

 

**Xtra: The Savage Nymph**

Well, they might not have had uber hearts, but being a Keyblade bearer is pretty close to that, right? Well, that’s Larxene’s opinion, at least. She almost bites at her lip. Keyblades. Oh right, the  _ woman _ . 

The Nobody doesn’t snap her fingers at the recall, but she comes close. No need to let everyone know how close she came to forgetting something so important!

“Hey, there was a woman with Sora. Someone I’ve never seen before.”

“And what does it matter?” Xemnas states. “Sora gathers many allies. Very few are permanent.”

“She had a Keyblade,” Larxene snaps, hands on her hips. She  _ knows  _ better than to snap at  _ Xemnas  _ of all people, but she just can’t help herself. He’s just so...ugh. 

“Ass,” she mutters under her breath. 

“A Keyblade, you say?” Xemnas’ face is unmoved, the same resting bitch face as always, but he’s surprised. She’s sure of it. He has to be. “Describe this woman.” 

“Long black hair, wearing a black blindfold, a cute blouse, short skirt, and purple leggings. Used a pretty strong Light spell, so I guess the Guardians have a leg up in gathering the Seven Lights.” 

“What was her name?”

Larxene taps at her chin once, before shaking her head. “Nope, didn’t catch that.”

“I see. Much will have to be discussed.” And without further ado, Xemnas vanishes into darkness. An unspoken dismissal. 

Just like the rest of the members here, Larxene vanishes almost just as quickly into a Dark Corridor of her own. 

She walks into another part of this world. Ahead of her, a figure with pink hair stands, staring at the horizon. 

Marluxia, of course. Who else would it be?

“So, another wielder of the Keyblade,” he states, back to her. “That will certainly make things more difficult.” 

“That’s something else too, about her. Other than the Keyblade,” Larxene says. 

 

Larxene hesitates, just for a moment. It’s an unspoken rule between the two of them, never to talk about the memories they lacked. 

But a lot has changed. Maybe this should change too. 

“I think...I knew her. And you must have known her too, if I did.” 

Marluxia taps his fingers on his thigh. A sign of him paying close attention. “What was her name?”

“Didn’t you hear? I didn’t get her name.” Larxene smirks. 

Marluxia finally turns around, to smirk back at her. “I  _ know  _ you.  _ And _ Sora. The boy wouldn’t let you walk away without shouting his ‘friend’s’ name in your face.”

“Well, he  _ did _ do that.” Larxene taps a finger against her lips. “Her name...It’s Skuld.”

_ Skuld.  _ The name, much like when she first heard it, echoes around in the space where her heart used to occupy. Something squeezes inside of her. 

“Skuld,” Marluxia breathes, closing his eyes. Yellow, yellow, yellow. Just like her own, now, and everyone else’s in Organization Rehash. 

When he opens them again, for a split second, Larxene could almost swear they’re blue. The illusion, however, is gone the next second. Like it had never happened at all. 

“Perhaps we should try to meet this ‘Skuld.’” 

Larxene smiles. “Ready for that coup?”

“We’ll see,” Marluxia says serenely, closing his eyes once more. “We’ll see. But first, to find ‘Skuld.’ Then, we’ll go from there.” 

Larxene wiggles her fingers, watching her lightning dance between them. 

“Oh, I can’t  _ wait. _ ”


	8. Heavy Metal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx finds a book and memories, but loses heart in exchange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update, for once. Warning: some torture, though nothing is bloody.

The library, unsurprisingly, is a wreck. A wreck that no one’s bothered to clean up in any way, shelves leaning each other or broken on the floor, books scattered everywhere alongside their tore pages. 

Most of the library is science, science, and more science. Which makes sense, seeing how only the ‘scientists’ of the Organization ever used it. 

Nobodies don’t tend to turn to books for personal entertainment. After all, it takes emotion to really get connected to story and its characters. Why waste your time on something meant to bring out emotion when you didn’t have any? 

Not that Demyx was the biggest reader before he became a Nobody...at least, from what he remembers.

So, yeah, science. Stuff written by Vexen, mostly. Guy did like talking about his ‘great work’ whenever he got the chance, both vocally and through the written word. 

Every once in a while, his fingers trip over a title that has  _ Zexion _ , instead of the more common  _ Vexen.  _

(A squirming Dusk on the table. “You think this will assist us in regaining our hearts?” 

A cold smile. “Any new information could possibly be of use.”)

“ _ What was that?” _

He snatches his hand back. That hand is shaking, he can’t help but notice. Quivering like it’s about to fall apart. 

“What’s my name?” he asks urgently, out loud, directed to the heart inside. 

“ _ Demyx. That’s what you told me _ .”

“Demyx,” Demyx repeats, “Demyx. Right. That’s me.” 

He shakes his head, frowning. Refocuses on the self-appointed task at hand. With every bit of willpower he can muster. No possible fiction to take back, nothing to tease Vanitas with. Not on these shelves. Shelves he should be getting away from. 

 

Except for...one tiny tiny shelf on the far back wall. One that wouldn’t be even be visible if the tall shelves hadn’t all fallen over. 

A shelf that is, Demyx discovers to his delight, full of fiction. Many titles he’s never even heard of before. Nothing his partner would know of, that’s for sure. 

“Hmmm,  _ The Time Traveler’s Wife, T Rexes and Tax Law, Legion.... _ man, there’s a lot of stuff here.” 

“ _ I wonder who these books belong to. Do you have any idea?” _

Demyx shrugs, running his fingers down along the spines. “Does it matter? They’re not here anymore. Probably.”  __

“ _ I don’t think we should take anything. Whoever owns might come back for them.”  _

“I’ll just take one.” Demyx snatches the first book he lays eyes on, before seeing another title, one that might catch Vanitas’ fondness, as well as the man’s attention. “Well, two, actually.” He reaches out with his empty hand for that second.

The voice says nothing, only emulating a feeling of disapproval. An emotion that riles up his imaginary stomach to dangerous levels of broil. 

But Demyx has spent a large portion of his life dealing with huge amounts of passive aggressiveness and blatant insults. He ignores the emotion to instead look over the two chosen books in his hands. 

“Hm.  _ Pride and Prejudice,  _ that sounds...weird. And  _ Tale of the Champion,  _ that one’s a little vague.” He vanishes both books into the depths of his pockets. “Better take both.”

The disapproval continues. 

“Hey, you’re not my mom. Not that I have a mom...”

Still continues, a little stronger. 

“Oh fine. I’ll leave some munny. That should be enough to replace the books.” 

The disapproval fades away as soon as he places a few of the orbs on the shelf, next to the other books. 

“ _ Are there any books about plants?” _

“Oh, now you’re willing to break your standards?”

“ _ Well, if we’re leaving munny...” _

Demyx laughs a little bit, shaking his head. “I’ll take another look. But you have to shake me out of it if I zone out again.”

“ _ Deal. Just one.”  _

“I got you.” Demyx nods, stauntering back over to the big shelves once more. 

 

The big shelves don’t offer very much in the plant department, other than one tiny booklet by a ‘Aeris Gainsborough’ on the local flowers of Radiant Garden. But that’s alright, good enough. Fun to rearrange the books, to purposefully move things out of  order to annoy anyone else coming in here. 

Three books acquired. Making a mess. Today is a good day. 

“Now, to the lab.”

Demyx walks out whistling. 

And nearly runs over a tiny person standing right in front of the library doors in the process. 

“Crap! Don’t do that!” 

The person is wearing an Organization cloak with the hood up. Probably not a friendly, but Demyx can’t really judge, he’s wearing one too. 

“Who are you?” He asks the little cloaked figure curiously, taking the chance to look them over more closely. 

Short. The height of a kid, maybe. Like Roxas.  _ Roxas _ . 

“Hey, are you Roxas?” 

The figure shivers. Silence, no verbal answer. Huh. 

“Huh.” Demyx scratches at the side of his hood. “Hm. You seem kinda familiar...”

“Leave the puppet be.” 

 

Demyx squawks, and about falls over at a voice he’d thought he never hear again. Apparently he’s not that lucky. He’s never that lucky. Damn it, Saïx. 

Also, while he’s at it, damn the universe for having this situation pop up for him to deal with.  

“Agh! Don’t do that!” Demyx waves his arms around, almost pinwheeling in order to keep himself upright. “You’ll give me a heart attack!” 

“That would imply you have a heart to have it with.” Saïx looks him over dispassionately, yellow eyes the same as ever, cold and uncaring. “Why is your hood up?”

Erm...why does that matter? When did Saïx conduct dress code inquisitions? He searches mentally for an answer that’ll satisfy the unexpected question.

“Hey, I just got up. These hoods make for perfect napping material.” He grins nervously under said hood, though no one can see it. “Um. Don’t tell the Superior I said that.” 

 

He can erase the scar on his cheek with some concentration, though he can’t hold it forever. And there’s very little he can do about his eyes, except darken them and hope Saïx doesn’t think anything of Number Nine (Six) suddenly having amber eyes. 

Oh well, time to wing it!

He lowers his hood, as soon as the transformation is complete. To ordinary Demyx, of course. Lazy Demyx, who is certainly not doing anything other than napping and messing around with his sitar. 

For some reason, Saïx narrows his eyes at him. What, did he leave some work undone or something? Mess around with the sound system? 

 

“Very convincing. If I hadn’t seen the  _ real  _ Number Nine lazing about before coming in here, I might have even been fooled.”

Demyx freezes.  _ Shit _ . 

“Xion, pin him down.” Saïx summons his big sword (claymore?), casually swinging the weapon out of nowhere with one hand. 

The short cloaked figure springs into action, launching themselves at him with an outstretched...Keyblade? 

Double shit. 

Well, if his cover’s blown...make like a tree and get out of here? Demyx dodges back, out of reach of both sword (claymore!) and Keyblade. He tries for the door, but suddenly there’s blue fire there. Slipping into shadow form can’t get him past there and will make him more vulnerable to the Keyblade. 

No choice but to fight, then. 

Demyx steels himself. Turns and reaches out for-

 

Nothing. Reaches for nothing. Something’s grabbed him from behind. Why is he so  _ bad  _ at this, he survived the freakin’ Apocalypse, for crying out loud!

Demyx tries to look at the thing that grabbed him. Big,  _ huge  _ Heartless. Mouth tied shut for some reasons, blue colored...and utterly impossible to get away from. Shadow slip does nothing against a Heartless. 

“What is the meaning of this?”

Deep voice, who that? Bad voice. Not the Heartless grabbing him but someone new.  

Saïx pauses in his attack. ‘Xion’ freezes in place, a puppet whose strings have been pulled taunt. “Ansem. There’s been...an intruder.” 

“An intruder.” ‘Ansem’ floats into view. He’s...Demyx doesn’t really know, but he’s  _ there.  _ Pure Darkness the way the threatening Nobodies are not. 

“Someone who looks like one of the vessels but is not,” Saïx clarifies. 

Man, the only person Saïx sucks up to like that is Xemnas. This guy related somehow? Probably, with his luck. 

“I see. But who could have sent him? The side of Light is certainly not clever enough to...” ‘Ansem’ pauses, to look at Demyx straight on.  

It’s not a good pause. 

 

“Why...” There’s something in those yellow eyes of this ‘Ansem.’ Too late, Demyx realizes it to be curious interest. “You are a Heartless.” 

“No.” The word crosses his lips before he even has a chance to stop it.

“Hm.” Ansem looks him over once more, a spark of...interest in those eyes. Demyx’s pretty sure that he doesn’t want Ansem to be interested in  _ him _ . 

“I will take care of this. Tell my Other of this unexpected event.” 

“Of course.” Saïx dips his head into a deep nod, before turning towards his tiny companion. “Follow,” he orders and the two walk out of the room.

Leaving Demyx still grappled by this strange Heartless, at Ansem’s mercy.

Oh  _ no _ . 

Well, this isn’t going to end well. For Demyx, at least.

 

* * *

 

“Well...get many visitors?” Demyx pulls at the straps holding him tight against the table (specimen table) once more. “Or am I just special?”

Ansem ignores him, of course. He’s getting...tools out. Which is fine. This is totally fine. Demyx wasn’t expecting an answer anyway, it’s fine that Ansem doesn’t answer. He pulls harder, with every ounce of inhuman strength available to him. 

Doesn’t even budge, like every other time before. (Of course it doesn’t, the table was created to hold a Beserker if necessary.)

(Flashes of knives, of a computer. The samples have to be recorded.)

“ _ Stop, stop! His name is Demyx!” _

Agh. Demyx shakes his head, his aching head. A question, can you have a headache if you don’t really have a head to have it with? Trick question, he still has a headache. 

“ _ Demyx, it’s getting really Dark in here.” _

Right, right. Got to keep it together. For her. He can handle this. 

And for a moment, Demyx almost believes it. 

 

Until Ansem unzips Demyx’s coat, placing two hands on the newly exposed chest. 

Places them there and  _ pulls _ . 

Ansem rips into his rib cage, his false rib cage that’s just shadow and memory cobbled together into something like human form. 

The worst part is that it doesn’t hurt. It just  _ itches.  _ Itches, having his very being torn apart. Having his form exposed for the scam that it is. 

No, Demyx doesn’t really think he can handle this anymore. He would  _ really  _ like to not be here, thank you very much. 

“Who created you?” Ansem asks, fingers tracing along those same ‘ribs.’ 

“No one,” Demyx hisses out from between his teeth. 

“Do not lie. Becoming a higher form of Heartless takes either preparation or the power of pure will. And the Somebody of Number Nine had neither. Enough will to create a Nobody, but not enough for something like you.” 

Ansem presses down, just a little bit. “ _ Tell. Me. _ ” 

Demyx gasps for the breath that he no longer needs. “I don’t know.” 

A hand  _ pulls  _ at something inside the ‘rib cage.’ Tugging at his very being. An itch turns into a flash of agony. An inhuman screech escapes Demyx before he has a chance to choke it back down. 

“Reveal your true form, and the Darkness inside of you.”

“You...first,” Demyx pants. 

“Then give me a name and the pain will end,” Ansem offers. He pulls out his hand, waiting. 

“Vexen.” Yellow eyes narrow and the hand plunges into Demyx’s midsection once more. Demyx yowls as yet more of his essence rips out of him. “Hey, hey, hey! I _ need  _ that!”

“No more lies. The truth,  _ now _ .” A second hand grabs the other side of the gaping hole in Demyx, pulling it apart. Shredding him. 

For the next minute of this, all Demyx can do is screech. A Heartless’ wailing. 

 

Until it suddenly stops, long enough for him to breath in. Once. 

“...What is that?” The hands inside Demyx pause their painful work, just for a moment. 

Demyx rolls his eyes down, just enough to catch the gleam of light coming from his open chest. 

Oh. No. Nononono.

“ _ Demyx!”  _

With all of his will, Demyx forces the light of that heart deeper into himself. Soon the light is gone, vanished once more into darkness. 

“You’ve consumed a Heart of Light.” It’s not a question. 

“No?” That’s a question. 

Ansem’s yellow eyes flash. “Your pathetic attempts to lie to me are not amusing.” 

“Well, ugh, pathetic attempts are, uh, kinda my thing, right?” 

Just a little more...now! Demyx suddenly sits up on the table. The straps were made to handle the purely physical, like Nobodies of every kind. Not something now more shadow than real. Ansem’s eyes widen, and before he can act, Demyx reaches out with a single hand. A hand that’s nothing but shadow now. A Heartless’ grasping claw, searching for a heart to steal. 

 

He reaches, with all of his might, not to escape, but for his enemy. 

Reaches, twisting and twisting. Where the rest of him has forgotten, his heart  _ remembers.  _ And the Darkness making up his form does too. 

Somewhere in that Darkness that the Heartless before him controls....there’s a light. Just a speck, almost utterly consumed by the shadows surrounding it. 

Yet it’s there, nonetheless. Resisting. 

Demyx reaches and the light shrinks back from him.  _ No, no, I’m not here to hurt you.  _

“ _ Demyx!”  _ calls a voice in the Dark. The voice of the Heart he carries. The Heart that is not his. 

“ _ Demyx! He’s going to take me away! Help!” _

The light he was reaching for shines brighter. 

“ _ Who...are...you?”  _ A deeper male voice asks, sounding completely exhausted. 

Who  _ is  _ this light in the Dark? 

Well, whoever they are, Demyx sure hopes they’re willing to help out other light-filled hearts.  _ Help her. Please _ . 

_ “I will.”  _ The little light shines brighter, somehow driving off the Dark. Driving off Demyx in the process, but that’s okay. He expected that. 

 

Now, for the other Heartless. Fighting him is like wrestling with a Flood. There one moment, gone the next, biting you the entire time. Demyx’s not going to win this fight. Ansem knows far more than he does, has a  _ lot  _ more experience, and is willing to do things Demyx is not. Demyx’s not going to win, but he can  _ buy time _ . 

(“When the world is ending, every moment you can buy is a victory.”)

If Ansem’s a Shadow, then Demyx’ll be a school of fish. Darting about everywhere, flashing between the teeth of snapping jaws. Struggling with all his might. 

“ _ Hold on! He’s on his way! Just a little longer...” _


	9. Hekate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of thinking occurs. Also, some meta and world-building about Keyblades.

Naminé doesn’t have to watch more than a few seconds to see everything that’s wrong with Merlin’s teaching method. 

First of all, pieces of flying furniture don’t make very good combatants. Weak, slow, falling apart under a single blow. Nothing like the numerous foes Naminé herself has faced. Nothing that would prepare the two for what challenges that lie ahead.

 

Also, just sparring with each other? Prepares neither of them against other enemies’ fighting styles, especially if they’re only used to one other person’s way of fighting. 

She sighs quietly to herself. Her fingers rub against cloth, hidden safely inside of her sleeves. If only she had access to either Heartless or Nobodies...true enemies for the pair to face. For now, she’ll have to deal with only observing.  

 

She narrows her eyes, watching the clashes between Axel and Kairi more closely. Kairi’s Keyblade is sturdy, made to take a lot of punishment. Naminé has no doubt she’ll end up relying more on physical attacks than magical, much like the Kairi of the future. 

But Axel....she squints at his very, very new Keyblade. New enough, weak enough, that she can see it almost fizz out of existence with each blow it blocks. 

Against another new wielder, it’s fine. Against someone with a bit more Will...well, Naminé hates to think of what would happen to both Axel and his Keyblade. And Kairi...

Fine. Fine.  _ Fine.  _ Enough with observing, she’s seen enough. 

“Kairi, let me help you with your stance.”

Kairi pauses, “What’s wrong with my stance?”

_ Technically  _ nothing’s wrong with her stance. It’s very by-the-book, orthodox, and traditional. Perhaps Yen Sid had lent some guidance, for Kairi to know that much of wielding a Keyblade.  _ Technically  _ she’s doing everything correctly. 

The problem is simple: Kairi doesn’t  _ stick  _ to that stance and use its few advantages. Especially when sparring with Axel. The minute she  _ really  _ starts fighting, Kairi drops into something more fluid, more  _ Sora  _ than anything else. 

Which is fine. Sora’s way of fighting has served him well, has seen him through dozens of difficult enemies and thousands of Heartless. 

It’s just not the best for Kairi. For the way Kairi  _ wants  _ to fight, deep in her bones and soul. Her heart calls after Sora, but the rest of her...less so. So she mimics what she knows best, but that best is not best for her. Sora’s strengths are not her strengths. There are many,  _ many  _ openings as she ‘fights.’ Openings that Axel is not taking advantage of, from either some misplaced chivalry or lack of skill. 

So, problems that are common to new fighters of every kind. Problems that Kairi  _ does not  _ have time to figure out on her own. 

 

Naminé purses her lips. “We can do better. May I show you?”

Kairi nods without a single hesitation. Naminé carefully steps over to her, left hand reaching out towards the girl’s hip. Axel watches all of this with laser focus. 

Carefully, slowly she nudges Kairi’s hip in the direction it needs to go. Hidden in her long sleeve, her fingers quiver. 

“Your feet...like this.” Naminé places her feet in a familiar beginning stance. A stance that this body had practiced and used hundreds of times. Something Naminé had practiced many times herself, not that she fought using it herself. But simply a way to remember. A way to never forget who owned this body before her. 

A fighting style that taken years and years for her Kairi to cobble together, in the middle of invasions and world collapses. Solid, made to take a hit and to deliver one back even harder. A way to both defend and attack. 

That future Kairi, Naminé feels, would have loved for her past self to learn it, to avoid the pitfalls that she herself had fallen into along the way. But that future Kairi is not here. Naminé is. 

And she will teach it for her. 

“Next, lift your Keyblade like this. Don’t rely on your back to carry the weight, you’ll hurt yourself that way. Focus on your core, your wrists. The arms hold your blade.” 

 

Kairi is easy to teach, taking each new step in with a determined nod and moving herself into place right away. Enough that Naminé can show her the entire beginning sequence, to practice again and again. 

After many repetitions of this, Kairi’s Keyblade slips from sweaty hands. Naminé just barely manages to catch it before it hits the ground.

For a moment, she can’t breath. 

(“You think your Keyblade can do anything against  _ me _ ?” A snort of almost laughter. “ _ Pathetic _ .” Pain, something digging in their side, their hand-!)

Destiny’s Embrace disappears, as is common of fully-bonded Keyblades when held by one that does not command them. 

Kairi looks over at her. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

Naminé waves her sleeve dismissively. “It’s nothing. You did quite well. It’s my fault, pushing you so long.” 

“Now, how about me? Do I get any cool tips?” Axel asks, walking over with Keyblade held over his shoulder. Much like how he held his chakrams, at one time. 

Naminé tilts her head. “Just one. Try to hit me.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Yes. Hit me with your Keyblade.”

“Alright then...” Axel mutters, raising said Keyblade. 

 

He slows his coming strike purposefully. Afraid to accidentally hurt her. Not that he needs to worry about that all, Naminé has faced much worse ‘unarmed’ as she is. But that is not the kind of demonstration she’s attempting to display right now, so she lets it pass. 

Reaching up with her left hand, she catches his Keyblade. Grips it tight physically and magically. 

Axel responds to this by, of course, trying to pull away. He fails. “What are you doing?!”

“Reforging you,” she answers. A single pinch and the Keyblade evaporates back into ether, returned to nothingness. 

Gone. Too easy.

Green eyes widen in shock. Though Naminé cannot currently see Kairi from this angle, she assumes blue eyes are doing the same thing. 

“ _ How _ ?!” He demands. 

Naminé ignores, moving onto the next phase of her plan. A single gesture brings up a common Barrier, one to keep Kairi out and Axel in. Trapped with her. 

 

“Tell me, who are  _ you _ ?” She closes her eyes, focusing. When she opens them again, she can see the chains. The connections between hearts. Well, the strongest ones, at least. There are two (three) that shine the most brightly for Axel. Who they are...she can guess, but it’s not important for  _ her  _ to know who. 

No, the person that needs to know exactly where those connections go to stands right in front of her, fire surrounding one of his hands. A common Fire, about to be cast.  

“Why do you fight?”

“I’m fighting for my friends.” Axel glares. “Why do you want to know?”

“Who do you fight for? What do  _ you  _ want?” Naminé lifts her chin. Though Axel is much taller than her, she still manages to pull off the impression that she’s looking down on him. 

“You’re not a Nobody anymore, fighting to have the willpower to continue existing just one more day. Yet you still act like one. Purposeless beyond survival. What is your  _ cause _ ? Your  _ heart’s desire _ ?” she continues, pacing closer to him. To the Fire in his hand. 

“Axel, which path will you take?”

 

* * *

Who could have guessed Naminé would become anything like  _ this _ ? 

Lea still remembers days from Castle Oblivion (barely) of her cringing whenever someone’s boots clumped across the floor too loudly, sitting as still as a doll. Quiet and unassertive. 

Certainly nothing like the woman who now stands across from him, challenging him after  _ breaking his Keyblade. _

Well, actually, now that he thinks about it, that isn’t entirely true. Didn’t the girl stand up against Marluxia in Sora’s name, while the Nobody was ready to destroy her in an instance? So, Naminé always had this strength, but now it’s even more.

Standing against him, armed only with a question. 

“Your answer?” 

“Why does it matter?” 

A small smile. “If you’re asking me that, then I wonder how you managed to get a Keyblade in the first place?”

He bristles at that jab. “Hey! It took me forever to summon it for the first time! And you just broke it!” 

“Keyblades are forged from hearts. It is the power in a heart that has managed to support a Keyblade that attracts Heartless to them in droves. You have the power, but you have not directed it fully. Thus,” Naminé gestures to his empty hands with a head tilt. “I could force the Keyblade back into your heart, ‘breaking’ it essentially.” 

She steps forward, hands tucked away in her sleeves. “You and only you can reforge it. But that reforging has to be done correctly, or your enemies will break it like I just did.” 

 

“What do questions have to do with that?” Kairi asks, from outside of the circle. Outside of this impossible Barrier. 

Naminé shrugs, ever so slightly. Just a twitch of her robed shoulders. “Questions get people thinking. Directs them to what their assigned purpose is. Do you fight for a cause? Or a person? Or something else entirely? Once that is found...one’s will can support the full strength of a Keyblade alongside their heart.” 

Lea runs a hand through his red hair. Thinking. Why is he involved in this entire mess? Part of it is that he feels guilty, awful, for he did as Axel. That this is the only way to make up for being part of the Organization. But it’s more than that. 

_ Roxas, I told you I would see in the next life. Isa, I left you behind. X-  _

He blinks. There’s an empty space, something that needs to be filled. Like his tongue running over a missing tooth, overwhelming and obvious now that he knows the space is there. 

A person. Someone needs him. Someone he failed. 

“I let them down,” he finally speaks, looking down at his hands. His hands that carried chakras to maim, to kill, for so long. “I can’t let them down again.”

“How did you let them down?” Naminé’s queries are more of a background buzz now, tiny nudges that help him gather his thoughts. His memories. 

“We were trapped. They’re still trapped.” Roxas, inside of Sora, his fate to be nothing more than a body for the heart to fill. Isa, possessed by  _ Xehanort _ , a fate that Lea should have seen coming, should have saved him from. The last one, gone, gone,  _ gone _ . 

“I have to protect them. Make up for my mistakes.”

His hands hum, growing warmer and warmer. “I will free them from their fates!  _ Flame Liberator!” _

 

His hand comes up, comes up with fingers wrapped around the hilt of a familiar Keyblade.  _ His  _ Keyblade, Flame Liberator.

“You did it, Axel! I knew you could!” Kairi cheers. 

Naminé’s blue eyes gleam, as she lowers her chin against her neck. “Good job, Axel. Now that the easy part’s done...”

“Wait, that was the  _ easy part _ !?” Lea squawks, allowing his Keyblade to vanish back into whatever void Keyblades and other magical weapons hang out in. 

“Yep!” Naminé smiles brightly. “Time for some  _ real  _ training! I’ll get you stronger than ever, the both of you. Just you wait!”

For some reason, a chill runs down Lea’s back at that perfectly innocent smile. The rest of him is too elated to notice, summoning Flame Liberator back and forth easily. The easiest it’s ever been.

“I’m ready. Hit me with it.” 


	10. Basalt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ajax, quite possibly, doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. Aqua has a revelation. And the Lights call out in the Dark.

A sudden ringing noise nearly causes Ajax to jump out of his skin. He keeps from summoning his Keyblade, but only just. 

“What’s that!?”

“Oh, that must be the check-up!” Mickey digs through his pockets, eventually producing the source of the noise. A ringing brick-shaped and brick-colored object. 

Ajax peers curiously at it. “Is that a phone?”

“Yep!” Mickey replies, opening up the call with a single click of a gloved finger. 

There are two unexpected faces there. Chip...and Dale? That’s their names, right? Ajax’s pretty sure that’s their names. 

“Your Majesty, Riku!” They chirp. “Just checking in. Have you have Master Aqua yet?”

Mickey shakes his head. “Not yet. But we’re close, I can feel it!”

“Alright! Good luck, Your Majesty!”

The phone clicks off, signaling the end of the call. 

“Didn’t know those guys were still alive, at this point,” Ajax muses out loud. 

“What’d you mean,  _ still alive _ ?” Mickey, panicking over the implication that his subjects could be dead. 

Oops. Did not mean to say that out loud. “Well, you could be dead. I could be dead. But we’re not. That’s pretty good, right?”

“...You’re not making any sense,” Riku says. 

“That’s good, trust me. You don’t  _ want  _ me to make sense.” Ajax puts his hands behind his head, walking ahead of the pair of Masters. 

He doesn’t get too far ahead, before he hears a sudden cry behind him. Whirling around, Ajax sees a Demon Tide come out of nowhere to snatch Mickey up. Sending the King’s Keyblade whirling in the Dark. 

Where  _ she  _ picks it up. 

 

“Mickey, you’re too  _ late _ .” 

She’s  _ terrifying _ , cloaked in her swarming Darkness. Ready to kill.

The closest comparison he can make is the fuzzy memory of Namine, full of Light, coming down on Invidia like a load of bricks. An avenging angel. 

Really, it’s  _ beautiful.  _

Whoa. Ajax whistles at the sight. He gets an elbow to the gut in response. Ajax flinches. Just slightly, not enough to draw Riku’s notice. 

“Really.” Riku rolls his eyes at him. 

“Look, she’s impressive, okay? Calm down, it’s nothing more than that!” Ajax waves a hand at Riku. 

“Sure.” 

Ajax ignores Riku, focusing instead on the Dark Aqua standing before them. Something’s not quite right about her, about the seething Darkness she pulls herself out of. Words are coming out of her mouth, but he pays attention to none of them. Riku can listen to the speech here, there are more important facts lying beneath the surface. 

That Darkness...it hasn’t settled quite right. Still moving and boiling in her, something inside struggling up against it. Like she didn’t take in the Dark by choice. 

 

“Someone pushed her in.” Ajax whispers to himself. It  _ feels  _ right, somewhere in the depths of his constructed heart. Someone pushed Aqua into the Darkness, she didn’t fall on her own. 

Now, he’s not exactly  _ fond  _ of Aqua. Especially not after the entire Vanitas-Ventus mess, not to mention that Light... But no one deserves to have their every thought twisted right out from underneath them, filled with a chilly hunger,  _ forced  _ to fight and fight and fight.

No one deserves that. 

He raises his voice. “Mickey! Riku! Someone pushed her!” 

“What?” Mickey’s high pitched voice squeaks out, from somewhere in that swarm of  the Demon Tide. “Aqua! Is that true?”

Aqua scoffs, turning the King’s Keyblade over in her hands. “Does it matter if it’s true or not? You still  _ left me _ , let that happen to me.” 

 

“What does it mean, that she was pushed?” Riku asks in an aside, Keyblade at ready by his side. 

Ajax smiles back, baring his teeth. “It means we can beat the Dark out of her.” 

A single smooth motion and he’s rushing forward, next to Riku. 

Aqua raises her stolen Keyblade, ready to strike him down. As it comes down, his own Night’s Path is there to meet it in a flash of Darkness. 

Ajax laughs. The sound is almost too loud in these muffled realm, ringing through the  thick air like a bell. Cutting through it like a knife. “Come on! Is that best you got? Show me what the Darkness has given  _ you _ !”

 

* * *

 

He looks like the monster who attacked her and kidnapped the older man she met by the shore. 

Same silver hair, same dark skin...the clearest differences between the two are in the eyes and the attire. But do those differences matter?

He fights with Darkness. Like all of her enemies do. 

( _ You’re  _ fighting with Darkness, Aqua. You’re no better.)

“Shut  _ up _ !” She snarls, swinging her chosen weapon forward.

“You’re doing all of the talking here,” the monster shoots back. His Keyblade burns with a Dark Fire as he strikes back at her. 

She splits herself. Forming many different copies to fight back. He responses much the same, forming shades of himself to counter hers. 

 

They exchange a few more blows before eventually, she tires of it. 

Aqua focuses her power. She knocks him back into the ground in a series of quick blows all aimed at his chest. Another few seconds of charging works to vaporize his clones with a single overwhelming blast. “You’re weak!” she accuses him, holding the Keyblade up to his neck.

“Well, I’m no Master.” He smiles at her.

Aqua blinks. Because what? She’s about to defeat him and he’s  _ smiling _ ? 

“But  _ they  _ are.” 

Riku! The boy she hadn’t been paying attention to, now striking her from behind with ehr Keyblade. Hitting her with Light. Driving out her Dark power. 

Mickey’s right next to him, presumably freed by Riku. Holding his hand out. And without much further ado, the Keyblade she holds vanishes. Reappearing in the mouse’s hand. 

Leaving her unarmed. Defenseless, her power draining at an alarming rate. 

 

“No! No! This can’t be!” 

“But it is,” the Master,  _ Riku _ , says. He’s holding a Keyblade before her, one full to the brim with Light...and Dark. Both elements working together in harmony, against her. 

She staggers back, the Dark waves sucking at her ankles. Like they did so long ago, in that fight that trapped her here in the first place. 

“ _ Aqua!”  _ Who is that she hears, from the Dark?

A old name comes to her lips. A name of a friend who she feared had fallen to Darkness. Well, who had fallen to Darkness now? 

“Terra _. _ ”

A tear drips down her face.

“I’m  _ sorry _ .” 

The faintest of cries, so quiet she almost thinks she’s imagining it. “ _ Aqua!”  _

“Terra,” she breathes. The Darkness lapping at her...pauses. Almost freezes. “You’re still...I can’t give up.”

Aqua raises her voice. “I can’t give up. Not now!” 

The Darkness explodes around her as she jumps up out of it, towards the unseeable sky. The sky far, far above. 

Where Terra and Ven are waiting for her.

 

* * *

 

 

**Xtra: The Lost Light**

He doesn’t even know his name anymore, in this Darkness. He was someone once, but who was that someone? Who knows. 

He’s only there. Existing. 

 

Until a Light comes, seeking him out in the Dark. Given to him  _ by _ the Dark. “I need your help!”

“My...help?”

“My friend...he’s trapped.” The little Light looks down, shuffling her feet. “I need to call for help.”

“You can’t. Not from here.”

“Have you tried?”

He looks away, at the faded shadows of his hands. “Yes. I called and called, yet no one could hear me.”

The Light (the girl) is silent. “Maybe...” she starts, “You just need a little help. I’ll help you call for your friend and you help me with mine.” 

He thinks about it for a moment, before nodding. “Doesn’t hurt to try.” 

She smiles. “I’m glad. What’s your name?”

He looks away from her, ashamed for a reason he cannot yet name. “I can’t remember.”

“Oh...” she places a hand over her mouth. “You’re like me. I can’t quite remember yet, not all of the time. But soon I’ll know my name all of the time, and you will too.” 

She reaches out for his hand. His hand becomes more solid, more  _ real  _ (more like what he remembers, than what they are now) under her touch. The girl becomes more solid as well, more  _ real _ . Enough that he can now see the color of her hair, her eyes. 

“When I get a body,” she says, a little quietly, “I want to plant a garden. I want to see my brother again. Now you try.” Her smile is small. Gentle. 

“If-” 

“No, you have to say when,” she insists, tugging at his hand. 

“When I get a body,” he starts again, “I want to...hug my friends. And tell them I’m sorry.”

“Do you remember your friends’ names?” Green eyes widen in curiosity. 

“Aqua...Ven...I miss them,” he admits, hand tightening around hers. 

“Ven...I knew a Ven, once. Do you think...they would want to be my friends too?” The girl asks, taking her hand back to tug at a strand of bright orange hair. 

He gives a confident nod. “Of course they would. I want to.” 

Her eyes get very shiny, before she glances away. Like she’s about to cry.

“Don’t cry!” he bursts out. He’d never been very good with crying girls, before, and he certainly hasn’t gotten any better stuck in the Darkness like this!

“It’s okay, they’re...happy tears,” she sniffs, rubbing at her cheeks. “I’m glad. It’s funny, you know. That all these people want to be my friend  _ after  _ I die.”

“You  _ died _ ?” He looks her over for any injuries. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Thanks to my friends. To my friends I need to help.” She looks back at him, eyes determined. “Come on, let’s call for our friends!” 

 

“Alright.” He raises his voice. “Aqua! Ven!” 

“Aqua! Ven!” calls a young voice right next to him. 

“Aqua! Ven!” they both cry out once more. The name echoes through the Dark. 

“I’m sure she heard that,” the girl says, nodding. “We were very loud.” 

“I don’t know...” But then, there’s a voice. A whisper, really. Two of them, echoing back through the surrounding Darkness. 

“ _ Terra.”  _ A young woman’s voice, nearly breathless with exhaustion. 

“ _ Terra... _ ” A boy’s voice, mumbling sleepily.

He gapes at the Dark, at the girl. “They, they heard me! My name’s Terra!” 

“I knew they would,” the girl says, turning her head away with a faint blush brushing her cheeks. “Now for my friends...?”

“Yes, of course. What’s the name?”

 

“His name is Vanitas,” she says quietly. 

Terra takes a step back. “Vanitas...one of my enemies’ name was Vanitas.”

“Maybe it’s a different Vanitas?” The girl proposes, “Because I’m pretty sure the Vanitas I know would only fight you if you wanted to. Or if you were being stupid...”

“Maybe,” Terra agrees. “We can try.” 

“Vanitas! Vanitas!” they both call out. No answer, not like Terra’s. 

“Oh no,” the girl whispers, looking down at her feet. “I don’t think he’s listening.”

“It’s possible he doesn’t know to listen, that anything’s wrong,” Terra tries. This Vanitas...whoever he is, whether it’s the one he knew or not, Terra can’t think of him very fondly for leaving a friend in the lurch like this. 

“I do have one other thing, I could try...” Terra focuses. A flash of dirt, of broken Keyblades. The place he fell, where he  _ failed _ . 

“Find Vanitas, trouble,” is all he can manage to impart to that unstable connection, to whatever lies on the other side, before it breaks. 

“Try ignoring  _ that _ ,” Terra mumbles to himself. 

“Do you think that’ll work?” 

“I hope it will.”

“Thank you, “ the girl says, with a quick bow. Then she raises her voice once more. 

“Hold on! He’s on his way! Just a little longer...”


	11. Flame Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas gets lost in the past, as well as a message. There are also questions asked and answered.

Vanitas would be the first to admit that planning things out is not his forte. He’s a ‘strike in the moment’ kind of guy, a plague upon the worlds as long as he’s directed towards said worlds in the first place. 

Now, that being said, the situation at hand demands a decent plan of some sort. A plan that he’s going to have to provide here, since his past self is  _ far  _ worse at holding back. But what to do, to kill Xehanort?

Directly attacking Xehanort has never gotten Vanitas anything other than a beating. The only advantage Vanitas has here is surprise, since he’s pretty sure that Xehanort will not be expecting his apprentice to be time-traveling from the future any time soon. Once he makes his move, that advantage will be gone. 

Better make that move a good one, then. 

...What’s a good move? 

 

“Fight me.” The noisy demand cuts through his thoughts. 

“This again?”

“I want to see how strong I get,” his younger self insists. And that, that Vanitas can’t deny him. (What is strength anyway? Everyone who has ever been strong is dead.) 

“Go for it.” Last Requiem comes up in a guard, ready for the first move to be made. 

His younger self doesn’t disappoint, launching himself forward almost right away in attack. 

They clash for some time, Vanitas doing nothing but parrying the moves of his past self. Enough for both to get the feel of their opponent. 

Surprisingly, it’s his past self that stops first. “Strong. That’s good,” he says, satisfied as he allows Void Gear to fade from his hand. He points at Last Requiem. “What’s with your Keyblade?”

“My Keyblade?” Vanitas raises Last Requiem, looking it over once more. 

It’s a merging of designs, a merging of hearts. The hilt takes after that of Lost Memory’s, while the rest of the blade resembles Void Gear, though the entire thing is a gleaming black metal. Void Gear without its eye and its empty spacing filled with stained glass instead, the colors of red and green gleaming together in the light. 

“What’s that thing?” The past Vanitas points at his Keychain. A Keychain that’s made of green glass, shaped like a star. Or a flower, one’s that missing two of its petals on opposite sides. 

“A Wayfinder.” He rubs his fingers over the Wayfinder, remembering. 

(His gloved fingers rub at the shards of glass he keeps with him. Pieces of green, orange, and blue. Wayfinders, they were called. The remains of Wayfinders.)

“A promise,” he adds more quietly, in Ventus’ voice. A promise, he supposes, that was never fulfilled. Terra vanished forever, leaving nothing behind but a ghost eventually smashed to bits. Aqua lost herself to Light, destroying that which she held most dear. And Ventus...

Vanitas rubs at his chest. Well, Ventus  _ gave up,  _ the coward. Left him to do all of the hard work, didn’t even fight against their merging like he had every other attempt. He blows out from his nose a frustrated breath. 

_ Weak _ . Light, but it’s never enough.  _ He’s  _ never enough. 

(Not for Ventus.) 

(Ventus is  _ dead _ .) 

“ _ Vanitas. _ ” A whisper. A memory. Nothing more, nothing less. 

 

A flash of red. “ _ Vanitas. _ ”

He looks up, glancing around for whatever he spotted. 

The flicker of  _ something  _ out there. Someone watching them, always standing right in the corner of his eye. A boy, with pale white hair. A boy, with a familiar red scarf. 

(Ephemer is dead.)

Missing Ache flickers into existence, in his left hand. Vanitas merely holds the phantom blade behind his back. Backhanded, like he always did, before. 

“Ephemer?” he calls out to the empty desert.

“What are you doing?” His past self grumbles, peering out into the desert as well. It’s strange, really, that his past self is asking him so many questions.  _ He  _ never asked so many questions before. 

(That’s because you answer him and don’t beat him for daring to ask.)

(You  _ encourage  _ him. He trusts you, because you’re him. Because you share the same goal.)

(He sees as you as himself, when you are anything but.)

He shoves his stray thoughts aside, turning to instead answer his past self. 

“Remembering someone. Someone from before.” Mismatched eyes flicker over the landscape, searching for that flash of bright red once more. 

“Before.” The younger Vanitas blinks. “I get more memories back.”

“From before the split, yeah.” 

“Ephemer...sounds familiar.”

“You work on that. I  _ probably  _ should be repairing my armor.” 

He sits down in the dust, taking off his helmet to start the process. The past Vanitas doesn’t do anything beyond standing there, watching him curiously. Vanitas only manages as far as to coax the metal back into place, to cover up where his eye and face would be exposed, when something else interrupts him.

And by something else, he means  _ something else.  _

A heavy thump. A loud cry, of his past self launching himself at this new foe. Another heavy thump, presumably of this past self being tossed aside. 

Vanitas sighs. Looks up from the armor in his lap. 

“What the hell.” 

 

For a moment, It’s like seeing Kairi’s armored Will all over again. But this suit of armor is bronze and red, not pink and gold. Far older as well, a spirit from another life. 

(“The Princesses of Heart are no more. The Light returns to where it is required.”

“You killed them!”

A gleam of orange eyes. “And why do you care? You are of the Darkness, are you not?”

He shakes his head. “If you’re asking that...you don’t know anything about me!”)

He shakes his head once more, physically this time, driving away the memories. Focusing on the threat standing in front of him with Keyblade pointing towards the earth. 

“So, you gonna try to kill me?” Vanitas summons Last Requiem, casually leaning on the Keyblade’s hilt. “Because you’re not gonna win.” 

The suit of armor,  _ Terra’s _ Lingering Will, lowers its helm to look at him with the eyes it hasn’t got. The effect, he has to admit, makes him feel a bit strange. Dizzy to look for those nonexistent eyes. Without looking away, Vanitas raises his newly repaired helmet, setting it on his head. It clicks back into place. 

Then the Lingering Will moves, almost faster than the eye can see. If Vanitas hadn’t spent  _ years  _ fighting foes that move beyond normal senses, he would have been hit by the Keyblade heading directly for his face. But Last Requiem is there to catch the weapon, to push it back. 

Or almost push it back. Vanitas is strong, stronger than the average human, but the Lingering Will is stronger yet. Thing’s gonna smash him into the ground at this rate. 

“ _ She...asks...for you.”  _ Words vibrate through the Keyblade’s meet, with a very familiar voice grinding them out in Vanitas’ skull. 

Eyes widen behind the metal visor. “What?” 

“ _ Trouble...she’s hurt.”  _

“Where?” he demands, pressing up closer. Until his helm is nearly touching the Lingering Will’s own helmet. 

One last word escapes the suit of armor, before it removes its Keyblade from his and turns its back on Vanitas. “ _ Xehanort. _ ” 

Vanitas huffs. “Of course. Of course it’s fucking  _ Xehanort _ . It’s always him.” 

“What’s the plan?” The other Vanitas demands, having at some point picked himself back up out of a pile of broken Keyblades. 

Vanitas taps the back of his gauntlet against Last Requiem’s hilt. “Find my friend. Get him out. Possibly kill Xehanort.”

“You have a  _ friend _ ?” The kid sounds utterly shocked at the thought and Vanitas can’t really blame him for that. Not after years of hearing Master Xehanort decry friendship as a weakness and gloating over how it allowed him to take advantage of Master Eraqus. 

“Call him an ally, if it makes you feel better,” Vanitas offers. “He provides decent support. In a pinch. Now, if I were Xehanort, where would I put an annoying, possibly useful Dark-user...?”

“Probably that stupid castle,” The kid snorts, folding his arms over his chest. “I hate that place.”

“The Castle That Never Was, huh?” Vanitas glances down at his younger self. “Coming with me?”

“Where else?”

He smiles. “Time to screw things up.”


	12. Chrono Twister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas finds a body and Demyx, in that order. A rescue in the process.

Luxord’s waiting for Vexen to get everything settled, so they can finally head out on their mission, when  _ they  _ walk in. 

One’s a member of the  _ new  _ Organization XIII, the angry one that wears a helmet everywhere and only speaks in threats. The other is less familiar, wears a red and black armor that causes his chest (where his heart would be, if he had one) to twinge at the sight. 

“Hello there. I wasn’t expecting company.”

The armored figure nods. “That makes two of us.” A rough voice, possibly male? There’s something off about it. 

“Luxord.”

At that, Luxord raises both eyebrows. “It seems that you know my name, while I don’t know yours.” 

The stranger ignores the implied invitation. “Let us pass.”

Luxord taps his fingers together, summoning his deck. “Now, why should I do that?”

“We could play a game. For you to let us in.” 

“A game?” Luxord smiles. “What kind of game do you have in mind?”

The armored figure tilts their head, stepping forward. “How about a guessing game? I tell you something about yourself, you tell me something about me.” 

“I believe the odds would be in  _ your  _ favor, if we did that. Since you appear to know my name but I don’t even know yours.” Luxord shuffles his cards, snapping them together in a deck. “How about a game based on skill?”

“Skill or luck?” The figure asks skeptically, tapping a boot on the ground. 

“Why not both? Can’t have one without the other, after all.” 

“You using your cards for that?”

Luxord inclines his head. “Why, of course.”

The shorter Dark individual, the more familiar one, hisses. “We’re wasting our time! We should take him out.” 

Luxord raises an eyebrow. “I see you’ve collected one of our members. Vanitas, was it?”

Vanitas crosses his arms over his chest. Most likely staring at Luxord from underneath that always present helmet. But surprisingly, doesn’t say anything or move any more than that. 

Waiting, it seems, for his companion to take the lead. Something that appears rather out of character for what little Luxord knows about his fellow vessel. 

Said companion speaks once more. “I’ll pick a card. That work?”

“Good enough to start.” Luxord picks a few cards from the deck and fans out his hand. “Pick one and we’ll see where the game goes from there.” 

A armored hand reaches out, carefully, to pluck a card from his fingers. That same hand brushes against his fingers. 

“ _ Sleep _ .” The stranger’s voice intones, layered in magic. Sudden enough that takes him completely by surprise, allowing the magic to do its work. 

His cards slip from his hands, scattering all over the floor. He slumps over, sinking down onto the floor from the wall.  _ Sleep... _

The smallest part of him, just before it gets swamped with enchanted slumber like the rest of Luxord, almost has to  _ admire  _ the stranger’s cleverness.

_ A trick, hm? I can’t wait until we have a chance to play a real game...see what he'll pull out then... _

 

* * *

Vanitas reaches out to catch Luxord just before the man flops over entirely. Carefully, he pulls Luxord over, settling him nicely on the ground for him to snore his Sleep away. 

“Are you going to kill him?” His younger self questions, almost too excited at the thought. 

Not that Vanitas can blame him. To his younger self, all of these Organization members were just an extension of Xehanort’s will, extra hands and voices to order him around. If they were here to kill Xehanort, surely they would take out all of Xehanort.

He doesn’t know what his future self knows, that these individuals are  _ not  _ Xehanort, but individuals that may be of use in the future. Too many were lost even before the final battles began, the final battles that collapsed the World into the Dream. They cannot afford to lose someone who might become an ally, once Xehanort is gone. 

(“We need all the help we can get. Dark or Light.”

“I’m just an extra body, then?”

“You’re a good fighter, and we need that. To fight the Sins.”)

 

“No, of course not.” Vanitas holds up the card in hand, the card he had just picked. Looking it over. A Jack, a Jack of Diamonds. 

Huh. Does it mean something? Who knows, he doesn’t do cards. He flicks the card at Luxord’s sleeping face, taking petty amusement at the way it bounces off his nose. 

“It’d be better if we did.” 

“He hates Xehanort like we do, I bet. He doesn’t seem the type to willingly work for him, to do something so stupid.” 

“And what would you know?” The young Vanitas scoffs. 

“He didn’t call for Xehanort, didn’t he?”

A grunt in reply. As good as agreement, in this case. 

Vanitas steps over Luxord’s body to open the door. The door that leads deeper into the labs, the labs they must be keeping Demyx in. 

What else do you do with a freak of nature? 

(You kill it, of course.)

He shakes his dark thoughts with a shiver of his shoulders, pushing the door open. 

“Here we go.” 

The lab’s...nice, he guesses. If you’re into that sort of thing. Unfortunately, there’s someone in there. A tall pale man in a lab coat. 

“Luxord, I am almost done,” the man says without looking up from his work. A doll, on a table. 

“Not Luxord, actually.” 

The man looks up. His eyes are yellow, like Luxord’s. Another host, then. What a pain. Vanitas smirks, as he finally places the man’s hair and height. “Vexen. Stand aside and I won’t have to hurt you.” 

“What are you doing here? Get out!” A blue shield forms out of ice in Vexen’s hands. 

Two steps and Vanitas is right in the Nobody’s face. He reaches out. Vanitas’ hand closes around the newly formed shield. He  _ grips _ , digging his fingers in until it breaks. Shattering back into nothing.

Vexen’s face pales. 

“Go against me and it’s your neck that’s next,” Vanitas warns. He jerks at his head at the kid. “Mind keeping an eye on him?”

“Heh.” In answer, his younger self takes out Void Gear and points it at Vexen. Vexen, being intelligent enough to notice the bloodlust creeping in on that answer, scurries to a back corner where he’ll be out of the way. Away from the Keyblade in his face. 

“What’s that?” Vanitas points a finger at the doll.

“A replica,” his younger self answers before Vexen has a chance to.

Vanitas’ eyebrows raise under his helmet. “A replica? That’ll be handy.” He walks over, to grab the doll. Vexen lets out a small cry at the sight, but stays back. 

That done, Vanitas turns his attention to the reason he’s here in the first place: Demyx. 

 

Demyx is chained to a table. Strapped down with two Dark chains forming the shape of an X. The Heartless wiggles his fingers at Vanitas. “Hey, you’re here! That’s great!”

“Just one whole day and you already got yourself into trouble without me.” Vanitas surveys Demyx, determining the best way to free him without accidentally stabbing him in the process. He drops the replica in his hands at his feet. 

“That’s an exaggeration! It was only a couple of hours.” Demyx smiles, X-scar stretching. 

“Like that’s any better. Stay still.” Vanitas brings out Last Requiem. With a single slash, he breaks through the chains which vanish back into the Darkness that formed them. 

“There.”

Demyx stretches out on the table with a sigh. “Oh, that feels better. Getting pretty cramped, stuck like that for so long.” 

“How is she?”

Demyx squints at Vanitas. “Not even going to ask me how I got here?”

“I’m sure it’ll be a great story you can tell me later. How is she?”

Demyx rolls over onto his side. He flings his legs over the side, supporting himself on the table as he stands. “Running out of Light. Much longer and I’ll end up accidentally eating her.” 

“Eating her?” Oh yeah, his younger self. He’s here too. This is going to be great. 

Demyx peers over curiously, at the short figure currently menacing Vexen into a corner. “Wait, is that...?”

“Yes.” Vanitas grinds out. “We’ll talk about it later. The heart first.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll tell you later, it’s great, could be composed into song.” Demyx sighs, looking Vanitas. His chest is exposed, Vanitas can’t help but notice. A little...Dark, the illusion of humanity fraying at the edges. Marked up like someone’s been tearing into it. 

“Take her out.” 

Vanitas inclines his head. His hand moves, towards the chest. The chest that is not really a chest. 

Vanitas plunges his hand into Demyx’s chest. He goes in pretty deep too, all the way up to his elbow. 

“Did you have to put her in so deep?” Vanitas complains, fingers fishing around in the Darkness that makes up Demyx. 

“Hey, I’d like to see you dealing with another Heartless digging around in you to find a ‘Heart of Light.’”

“No you wouldn’t.” Vanitas frowns, splaying out his hand. Where is she...?

“Yeah, you’re right. That would be terrible.” Demyx’s body shudders in exaggeration. “It chilled me to the bone, like someone walking over my grave.”

“Anyone might think  _ you’re _ the one that reads crappy romance.”

“If they’re so crappy, why do you still read them?”

“It’s either that or listen to you,” Vanitas shoots back.

Demyx places a hand dramatically right under where Vanitas’ hand has entered his chest. “That hurts. Really, it does. In my heart.”

“Heartless.” There, almost there...right at the very edge of Demyx’s existence, his being. A heart, wreathed in Light. Warm to the touch, against the cold of Dark.  

“But I technically do have a heart, I’m all heart at this po-agh!” 

While Demyx’s distracted, Vanitas jerks free. Demyx doubles over, clutching at his chest. Pushing the writhing Darkness back together while Vanitas looks the orb of a heart in his hand over. Still whole, kept together with the witchery Namine placed on her. Protected from Demyx’s Darkness with a bit of Skuld’s donated Light. 

Vanitas glances up. His younger self and Vexen...they’re both gaping at him. Well, he can’t really be sure about his younger self, but it seems likely he’s gaping, judging by that open body language and a Spiderchest of surprise crawling out of his shadow. 

The Spiderchest in question creeps off, probably to hide in some corner of the lab.

Vanitas ignores it, facing the two staring at him instead. “What?” 

Hm. The heat is starting to sting, a bit. The protections are fraying. Good thing there’s a handy replica right at his feet to put the heart in. 

The heart, the light, drops from his burning fingers into the replica’s chest. The heart sinks in. Vanitas lets a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

“Finally.” 

 

He’s not sure who spoke first, him or Demyx. Demyx’s gold eyes glow as the Heartless grins wide enough to split his face open. Literally. “I don’t have to hold back anymore!” 

Demyx snaps his fingers. 

Heartless marked with an emblem poof into existence, floating about the lab. Red Nocturnes. “Burn, baby, burn!” Demyx sings out gleefully. “Let’s do this!”

The younger Vanitas holds out a hand, shadow boiling. “My turn.” One, two, three Red Hot Chilis form from that same shadow, floating to the nearest pile of papers and tools. That’s when the fires start shooting everywhere. 

“Great.” His elder taps at his visor. 

The situation is already a mess beyond control. What happens next is a logical extension of that, making everything worse. 

 

The body, out of nowhere, inhales. Inhales, chest moving in, and then letting out. Letting out a long scream. Screams and screams with no signs of stopping. 

“Shit.” Vanitas looks up at Demyx. “Will we have to worry about anyone coming?” 

Those screams...attention-grabbing, at the very least. Vanitas doesn’t want to fight his way out with a screaming body on his back. 

“This place is soundproof. Don’t ask how I know that,” Demyx says. The look on Demyx’s face at that...Vanitas decides not to ask.

“You imbeciles!” From his corner, Vexen snarls and waves his arms about. “That is  _ not  _ how to wake a replica!” 

“Whoa, never would have guessed,” Vanitas says dryly, turning the flopping body over onto its side with his foot. He’s not sure how replicas work, exactly, but human bodies at least should be on their side so they won’t choke on their own puke. 

“Of all the careless, most foolish things to do...you drop a heart right into an unprepared replica.” 

“Not like we had a better way.” Vanitas rolls his eyes. Not that anyone can see it, but the action makes him feel just a bit better anyway. “If you’re so good at this, why don’t you do it?”

“Don’t tempt me,” the Nobody mutters under his breath. Probably not meaning for anyone in the room to hear it. Kinda unlucky for him, then, that everyone involved has above human hearing. 

“I bet you couldn’t fix it, anyway,” Demyx says, out of nowhere. 

What? Vanitas tilts his head over in Demyx’s direction. 

‘Trust me,’ the Heartless mouths back, placing a hand by the side of his mouth like he’s about to whisper. 

Trust him? Alright. Vanitas nods back, ever so slightly. Settles back to let Demyx complete his task. And keep an eye on his younger self who is currently bashing on some device with  _ way too much  _ enthusiasm. As if the Red Hot Chills popping up everywhere didn’t serve as a clear enough indicator of that. 

“Fix it?” Vexen snorts. “Of course I could, it is  _ my  _ creation after all.” 

“I don’t think you could, you know. Take more skill to repair something than it does to make it,” Demyx’s voice almost takes a haughty tone. Something completely unheard of for the Heartless. 

Vanitas glances over, for a quick check. Yup, some strands of silvery hair in that blond mess. He’ll have to warn Demyx later, after he’s done messing with Vexen. 

“Skill? Don’t talk to me about  _ skill _ . You’re a mere musician!” 

“A mere musician who’s in the process of burning down your lab,” Demyx points out. Literally, gesturing to the nearby Red Nocturnes spilling liquid fire on some papers. 

 

A moment of silence as Vexen fights some internal battle, searching for the right words to say. Well, not silence, since the replica’s still screaming, but less words at least. 

“Don’t destroy my work, and I will assist you,” He eventually grinds out.

Vanitas turns his head towards Demyx. The Heartless gives a shrug. “Sure. Why not.” 

Vanitas beckons to Vexen. “Go ahead. But we’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Vexen mutters, walking over to examine the replica. The replica who’s still jerking around crazily and screaming. 

“Vanitas, let’s take out those Heartless,” Vanitas calls out. 

The kid looks up, from where he’s poking some wreckage with Void Gear. “Why would I do that?”

“Or are you not strong enough?” Vanitas baits. 

“Against  _ Heartless _ ?” The kid scoffs. “Please. That’s no challenge.”  

Not even a full minute passes, before both Unversed and Heartless are vanquished. Smashed to bits. Task completed, Vanitas turns his attention back to the replica and the Nobody playing with it. 

 

“Whose heart did you put into the replica?” Vexen asks, poking and prodding. Somehow he’s gotten the thing to shut up, but the twitching still continues even worse than before. 

Demyx and Vanitas exchange glances. Well, not really, but they know each well enough that their eyes don’t have to actually meet for the silent exchange to occur. 

“Um. Someone that we don’t know the appearance of. Or really anything else.”

“What?” Vexen scowls. “How did you even expect this to work, then? A replica needs more than a random heart tossed into it. Data is  _ necessary _ .” 

“Do you still have the data profiles of all of the Organization members?” Demyx laces his fingers together.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?” 

“Can a relative serve as template?”

Vexen’s yellow eyes flicker from the replica up to Demyx’s face. “Are you saying...? This heart...is a family member to one of the Organization? Family by blood?”

“Can it?” Demyx presses. 

“Possibly...if the connection was strong enough...”

“Great!” Demyx beams. “I’m hijacking your computer.”

“Wait, wha-” Vexen sputters. 

“Hook her up!” Demyx calls back, making his way to one of the only intact computers left. 

“Got it.” Vanitas turns to Vexen. “What do we hook up?”

“Those connectors, right there... you can’t get into the network, you don’t have a pas-”

“ **Access Granted. User Zexion: Welcome.** ” 

“Aha! I still got it!” Demyx almost does a little dance there, from his spot in front of the monitor. Vanitas spots more silver patches in Demyx’ hair. If the Heartless isn’t careful...

Vanitas huffs. Whatever. Not his business. 

This discussion can wait. Luxord won’t stay asleep forever, after all. 

 

Alongside Vexen, and with Vexen’s peeved instruction, Vanitas manages to attach all of the various wires needed for this ‘data transfer.’ A few more strokes of the keyboard on Demyx’s part and the transfer starts. 

“I don’t need all of it,” Demyx explains, “Just enough that her body will remember what her heart already knows. So it won’t take a super long time.”

“Good. Cuz we don’t have much time.” Vanitas glances over at the door. Good thing, it’s soundproof, or they’d be caught by now. Bad thing, it’s soundproof so they wouldn’t hear any enemies coming. “Watch the door,” he directs to his younger self.

His younger self peers down at the replica, instead of moving towards said door. “Who’s this one going to be?”

“A friend. From before.” Vanitas takes a look himself. The replica looks like a doll but less so, with each passing second of downloaded data. Gaining features, growing hair...his stomach wobbles watching the transformation happen right before his eyes. 

“Before?” The kid squats down next to the replica, reaching out as if to touch. “What’s her name?”

Vanitas eyes Vexen, who is looking  _ far  _ too interested in this conversation. “I’ll tell you once we get out of here. All four of us.” 

Vexen huffs. “What in the world would I be able to do with a  _ name _ ?”

Vanitas snorts. “It’s not you I’m worried about, Icicle.”

Vexen’s head comes up so fast at that, Vanitas is slightly surprised it doesn’t fly off the Nobody’s shoulders. 

“Icicle?!  _ Icicle _ ?! My name is  _ Vexen _ ,” the scientist stresses. 

“Icicle...” Demyx muses, scratching at his scarred cheek. “That’s a good one. Have to remember that.” 

Vanitas smirks, standing up to walk over to check the door himself. “No need to thank me. I’m here all week.” 

 

He cracks the door open, just enough to catch a glimpse of someone kneeling next to the sleeping Luxord. Someone with long blue hair. 

In one smooth motion, Vanitas closes the door and brings out his Keyblade. With the a loud click and a glowing beam, the door vanishes into the wall. 

“Moon man,” he explains. With a wave of his hand, he casts a “ _ Sleep _ ” on Vexen, causing the Nobody to flop over. As quiet as his replica creation. 

“Frick. Good thing I just finished.” Demyx hurries over to the replica, pulling all of the wires and strands off. It doesn’t look much like a doll anymore, but instead like a sleeping girl. A sleeping girl with long orange hair. 

As his part, Vanitas strides over to the computer and raises his Keyblade. Smashes it down, right through the keyboard and screen. 

Demyx lets out a wail. “What’d you do that for!” The silver streaks in that blond hair spread suddenly, almost turning his entire undercut gray. 

“Demyx,” Vanitas says, lowering Last Requiem slightly. “Demyx doesn’t care about computers.”

Demyx breathes in, deeply. He pats at the side of head. “Yeah, that’s right. Demyx doesn’t care.” With each word and breath, the silver shrinks back down until he’s almost entirely blond again. “Whew. That was a close one. But why are you destroying it?”

Vanitas turns back to his work, tearing through the various mechanical bits and pieces. “Can’t risk Luxu’s spy finding out who we brought back.”

“He’ll find out anyway.”

“Yeah, but better later than sooner.” Vanitas stomps a boot, crushing delicate parts scattered all over the floor. There’s something about the girl laying on the floor...oh wait. He knows what it is. “Hey, Vanitas, are there clothes anywhere? A spare coat?”

“Probably.” His younger self shrugs. Doesn’t move. 

Vanitas heaves out a sigh. “Do you know where they are?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, can I take yours then?” Vanitas gestures to the black coat his younger self still wears. 

“...Okay.” His younger self seems surprised once again, but does take off the coat. Handing it over to Vanitas. He’s, of course, wearing a familiar looking Dark Suit underneath. A Dark Suit that Vanitas himself has long since burned. 

He kneels down to the girl, carefully putting the coat on around her naked body. 

“We can’t take her through the Dark Corridors, it’s too risky,” Demyx observes. 

 

There’s a tapping against the sealed door. A tapping that grows into a loud banging. Someone, trying to get in. Moon man, probably. 

“Yeah,” Vanitas agrees, “We’ll have to use the Ways Between.” 

“Got a plan?”

The banging stops. 

Vanitas shrugs. “Run for it, until I can take out my Glider. Make a distraction?” He bends over to pick up the body, settling her over his left shoulder. 

Demyx tilts his head, considering it. Then he nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Darkness, spiraling into a familiar pattern on the floor. A Dark Corridor, in the process of being opened. “Seems someone’s gotten impatient.” 

Vanitas brings up Last Requiem once more, unlocking the door and swinging it open with a twist of the wrist. Then he  _ bolts.  _ Speeds through the door, the room where Luxord is on the ground, where Saix has just vanished into his Corridor, and a little figure stands there. Trusting that both his younger self and Demyx will follow him. 

 

He’s grinning, Vanitas finds to his surprise. It’s been far too long since he’s had this much fun, honestly. Nothing like a rescue mission to put him on his toes. 

The past is a different country, he remembers reading once. 

And it is, but it’s a  _ fun  _ one.

(Yeah, enjoy yourself now.)

(Before it all falls apart.)

(Run, boy, run.)

(Because you can’t run forever.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack of Diamonds, a face card that in the Parisian deck is associated with Hector from the Illiad, who fought Ajax among others. Also a trickster card much like a Joker in some card games, the "wheeler-dealer" card. A card with meaning, though Vanitas doesn't know it.


	13. Punk Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An escape is finally finished. Vanitas and Demyx fall apart in different ways. Two conspirators investigate the aftermath.

“Run away! Run away!” 

There must be  _ some  _ lucky star smiling down on their endeavor, to explain how every room they pass through in their mad dash to freedom is empty of any enemies to stop them. Maybe that lucky star is Xemnas’ obsession with dramatic open space, many times larger than any Organization could ever hope to fill. 

Light, Demyx hopes so. That irony would be so  _ great _ .  

Demyx doesn’t  _ really  _ run. He doesn’t really have legs anymore, legs that would exist without him constantly willing them into existence. It’s more a sliding across the colorless floors he does to move instead, while keeping an eye out for any enemies. 

And keeping an eye out on his own party. 

Vanitas, of course, leading the way. With a bouncing, cloaked body over his shoulder. Her body, Strelitzia’s body, complete with her heart inside of it. Feels good, how he no longer has to restrict himself, hold back his Darkness in fear of accidentally devouring the delicate heart sitting inside. Now he can go all out, no risk of capture this time. 

And the little Vanitas. The past one, the smaller one. It’s...interesting. What does Demyx call him? Small Vanitas, mini Vanitas...wait. Minitas. That sounds pretty good, right? Demyx smiles to himself. Minitas it is. 

Vanitas, Strelitzia, Minitas and himself. What a party. It’s going to be fun, that’s for sure. 

Once Vanitas deems it far enough, he skids to a stop. Pulls out his Keyblade and throws it down. A Glider made of black metal and colored glass spirals into existence, floating a few inches above the ground. Vanitas settles himself on the centered seat, carefully laying Strelitzia down right in front of him. 

“Get on.” He beckons to the two. 

“Huh, never thought our luck would hol-”

 

Purple-pink walls shimmer into existence. Boxing Vanitas’ Glider in and keeping both him and Minitas from getting to it. Other walls form around the area, almost a maze to prevent them from continuing their escape.    
Robed Nobodies.  _ Sorcerers,  _ Xemnas’ minions. 

Once the box closes around Vanitas, he freezes. Unable to move, stuck in the Void, in the Nothingness that is Xemnas’ source of power. 

Trapped. Luckily, the boxes around him and Minitas aren’t sealed up, just walls. But that’s cuz Xemnas  _ loves  _ to gloat. If they couldn’t see anything or hear anything, well, how could he gloat?

Thank the stars for Xemnas, that’s all Demyx is saying. Even though listening to him...Demyx wants to metaphorically puke. 

 

He and Skuld, at one point, have compared notes on what they each hear of the heart. Once, she told him he sounds like white noise (like all Heartless) but in a different way than most. Like the white noise of waves endlessly beating themselves against the shoreline, like the eternal ocean.  

To him, Skuld’s heart hums of a tune he can’t quite remember, a nursery rhyme he has always known but doesn’t recall words of anymore. Familiar, but old. 

So, the point is this: the two of them can hear the sound of a person.   _ Any  _ person. 

Xemnas is... _ sterile.  _ For lack of better word for it. All Nobodies are rather quiet, full of only echoes and fragments of notes. But Xemnas...he’s the emptiness of this Castle, the perfect silence of the dead, never to speak again. Scrubbed clean of any possible heart whatsoever. 

 

Demyx finds himself taking an almost unconscious step back in response to that overwhelming quiet. To get away from the ‘Superior.’ He only barely manages to catch that there are other Organization members there too. Saix and his short follower. Just three so far, but should they delay...there will be more, maybe even that Ansem involved the first time.

They need to get out of here.  _ Now.  _

“Were you under the impression that you could abscond without our knowing, Number Nine?” Xemnas asks. Well, kind of. It’s definitely, what you do call them, a  _ rhetorical  _ question. Most of Xemnas’ questions are. 

“Actually, I thought you’d be here sooner,” Demyx says honestly. The Heartless considers the three people standing before him. The timing of the Sorcerers and Xemnas’ entrance is a little too  _ perfect _ , once he thinks about it. “Did you wait for us trying to leave just so you could be all dramatic about stopping us?” 

Xemnas ignores the question. Of course. 

Which mean Demyx is right, you know. Demyx spreads out his hands. “Look, this keeping us here thing? Not gonna work for you. Letting us go would be better for everyone.” 

“Fool.” Xemnas doesn’t sneer. No, he’s too much of an arrogant Nobody for that. But he comes close with his tone of voice. “You, and your Nobody, belong to the Organization. Nothing more, nothing less. You cannot run from us.”

Laughter. Someone’s laughing. It takes a moment for Demyx to realize that it’s him. He’s the one laughing here, right in Xemnas’ face. 

(Oh, he’s going to pay for that, sooner or later.)

“That’s great, super funny.” Demyx wipes away mock tears. “Funny that you think that I  _ belong to you _ .” 

Demyx’s a Heartless, once a Nobody, once an unlucky Somebody. But one thing has survived all of his various transformations: he is  _ always  _ a musician. 

He hums, raising his voice into perfect pitch. A perfectly high pitch.

High enough and loud enough to shatter glass.

And shatter it does. The boxes created by the Sorcerers break apart, vanishing back into the nether that formed them. 

With the boxes gone, the others can act. Which they do, right away. 

 

A group of Unversed, a flurry of Floods, all appearing in a flash, swarming to attack any who stand in the way. Hm. A flash Flood, as one might say. Ha. Man, he  _ has  _ to tell Vanitas that one later. Those Floods work pretty well at distracting the Sorcerers, at least. More human-looking Nobodies draw their weapons, making as if to attack. Good thing there are yet more Unversed, gorilla looking ones to get in their way. Demyx swirls the hem of coat, flicking his hands like he’s conducting an orchestra. Darkness leaves him in droves, boosting the new Unversed with power to spare. Power that causes each Unversed to burst into sticky blackness when killed, delaying Xemnas and Saix by sticking them to the floor. And the third kid, of course. 

The force of the Unversed escaping Minitas unfortunately leaves the kid leaning to one side. Until, plop, he falls over. Right on the floor in front of Demyx. 

Demyx, of course, picks him up. Flops the kid over his shoulder like his future self did with Strelitzia earlier. No way  _ anyone _ ’s getting left behind here. Not today. Not ever again. He reaches out to grab at the thin framework of the Glider. 

 

The Keyblade, Last Requiem, buzzes like an angry bee under Demyx’ touch. A nice reminder that this weapon could obliterate him and that there would be no coming back. Not after that. 

“Hold on,” Vanitas orders, his Glider revving up to take off. His shoulders, Demyx catches with a keen eye, are shaking. Aftereffects of void-trapping. But they can’t stop now, they’ll take care of it later. Now, they fly. 

“You got it.” Demyx readjusts his grip. The best way to hold the kid...Demyx shoves Minitas between the Glider and his own body, smashes the poor guy up safely between two solids.  Less risk falling off that way, unless Demyx gets vaporized by the Xemnas lasers currently being fired at them. But if Demyx or the Glider gets seriously hit, they’re pretty much doomed anyway. 

He  _ has  _ to look. He  _ has to _ . Demyx glances back over his shoulder, as the Glider rises from the ground. Yep, both Xemnas and Saix are still stuck. Still fighting the Unversed Darkness tar. Both looking utterly  _ furious.  _

Demyx can’t resist. He raises one hand to cup around his mouth. “ _ Eat shit _ ,  _ Xemnas _ !” he shouts. The Glider rises up and  _ flies _ through another open doorway. 

 

Again, Xemnas’ utterly ridiculous design choices helps them out, the large hallways certainly big enough for an entire Keyblade Glider to blast through them. Like they’re currently doing. 

Large hallways, Demyx can’t help but notice, that seem to be getting smaller. Shrinking. “Hurry!” he urges Vanitas, glancing at the closing walls and the chasing Nobodies behind them. 

“Working on it,” Vanitas grinds out, pressing his palms against his Glider. The Glider glows in response, speed somehow increasing in the process. Until, boom, they’re finally out of that stupid castle. Racing towards an opening rift in the sky, towards the Ways Between. Just in time, before the next Nobody hordes catch up to them, the Glider slips through and they’re  _ out _ . Free. Finally. 

(For now.)

The few Dusks that slip in after them, Demyx easily takes out with a few shadow bolts. Obliterated, until Fate’s unkind enough to let the Lesser Nobodies reform themselves once again. The Glider directs itself to the closest world.

A world that Demyx finds himself remembering all too well.

Twilight Town.

 

* * *

 

They land in the woods. It’s the middle of the day (he thinks), bright enough that anyone looking up can see them. But frankly, Demyx doesn’t give a damn at this point. What has keeping ‘world order’ done except keep the worlds disconnected until the very end, when they should have been drawing together against the Sins?

(No, he’s not bitter. Not at all.)

The Glider almost crashes out of the sky and only corrects itself with a wobble last minute. Vanitas nearly falls off the Glider, sweeping Strelitzia back on his shoulder. Once Demyx gets off, Minitas in his arms, the Glider collapses back into its normal Keyblade shape. Last Requiem, just laying there in the grass. He looks around, taking in their surroundings. Trees. Lots of trees. Outside of the town trees. So they’re in the woods. 

 

Vanitas takes a few shuddering steps before stopping. Stops, swaying on his feet. 

In the middle of the woods, Vanitas collapses. Falls to his knees, Strelitzia sliding off his shoulder to plop onto the leafy ground. Last Requiem pops out of existence in a flurry of scattered shadows. 

His fingers scrabble at his armor, until he finally manages to pop off his helmet. His skin is paler than usual, the shade of pasty rotten milk. Vanitas breathes in and out rapidly, too fast to be drawing in any actual air. 

_ A panic attack.  _

Shit. Demyx lowers Minitas to the ground, before rushing over to Vanitas’ side. His hands hover behind Vanitas, right above his still armored shoulders. “Vanitas,  _ breath.  _ Vani, you have to  _ breath. _ ”

“Can’t-!” Vanitas chokes out. 

“Listen to my voice. In. Out. In. Out.” Quiet and assertive. Two things that Demyx is  _ not,  _ not at all. But he’ll do it for Vanitas. 

“In. Out.” Slowly the words sink in. Slowly Vanitas’ breathing levels out, following the spoken ‘in’ and ‘out’. Until he’s breathing on his own, no need for Demyx’s help anymore. At that point, Demyx carefully lowers his hands onto Vanitas’ shoulders. 

He’s still shaking. Shivering. 

“Vanitas, your armor?” Demyx pats at the plate, tip tap tapping away at the enchanted metal. 

“Yeah. Here.” Vanitas taps the side of his head, collapsing the armor back down into the shoulder part and boots it sits in, when it’s not being used. 

His skin looks a little better, still pasty but not as bad as before. Vanitas looks so much more  _ civilian _ , Demyx can’t help but think, without his armor. Jeans, and a  _ Phantom Thieves  _ T-shirt, and combat boots. The T-shirt is thin enough that Demyx can feel Vanitas’ bony cold shoulders through the soft cloth, replacing his hands on the man’s back. Carefully he rubs out the stress he can feel there with his fingers, slows down the shaking and trembling that echoes in Vanitas’ bones.  

Vanitas’ heart  _ hums _ , in response to the gentle touches. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Demyx rubs his shoulders for a few more moments, before glancing down at the little body in the grass. “So, we take care of that?”

“...did you just dump my past self and run?”

“Maybe?” Demyx tries. “You were having an emergency!”

Vanitas breathes out a long heavy breath. He shrugs off Demyx’ probing fingers and rises to his feet. He carefully checks Strelitzia for a pulse, going on to Minitas when he’s satisfied with the results. 

Vanitas squats down. He pushes Minitas a little bit, in the shoulder. The tiny motion is somehow enough to rouse the kid from the weird fugue he’s in, rolling onto his side to sit up. 

“You okay?” he asks his younger self.

Minitas pops up like a tiny jack-in-a-box, glaring at his older counterpart. “Fine!” he snaps. “I don’t need your help.”

“Okay.” Vanitas stands up as well, though a bit more slowly. 

At that point, Demyx snaps his fingers. “Aha! I nearly forgot!” He rummages around in his pockets, searching for the books he grabbed.

Vanitas watches him with an arched eyebrow. “You got me something?”

“Well it’s no Chuck Tingle, but I think you’ll like ‘em.” Demyx withdraws the two books from his pockets, offering them to Vanitas. 

Vanitas rolls his eyes so hard Demyx’s surprised they don’t roll out of his skull. But he reaches out to grab them. “No wonder you got yourself caught by the Organization, if that’s what you’ve been doing,” he snarks, vanishing said books into his inventory. 

“Says Mister ‘oh let’s just kidnap my past self and call it good.’”  

“Better than getting myself captured stealing  _ books _ ,” Vanitas says. Smiling, just a bit, letting Demyx know he’s just messing with him. 

 

“We need to get out of here.” Minitas finally speaks up. He’s been observing them, Demyx knows, under that mask that hides his face. Or, is  _ supposed  _ to hide his face. It doesn’t do very well against a Heartless that see through Darkness, even the concentrated Dark of the kid’s visor. 

So Demyx can see his furrowed eyebrows and look of pure confusion quite well. Confusion at his future self interacting peacefully,  _ friendly _ , with a stranger. Probably wondering why he hasn’t killed Demyx already, if Demyx remembers anything about what Vanitas said his life under Xehanort was like. 

(“No allies, no friends, no innocents. Just enemies and my Master.” 

A deep breath. “Just enemies standing in my way of what I wanted most.”) 

“That’s for sure,” Demyx agrees, folding his arms over his chest. “But where?” His arms shiver. Oh great,  _ he’s  _ shaking now. Shaking with the effort it takes to hold together, he’s done too much, been through too much, in a too short period of time. 

“Somewhere that we can safely wake up Strelitzia,” Vanitas says, gesturing to the girl on the ground. He’s propped her up now, against a nearby tree. She appears almost like a doll, completely still. 

His fingers itch. Fuzz into black. 

 

Demyx looks at Strelitzia, really  _ looks  _ at her. Her heart is so very bright, new and loud in  a way both Vanitas’ hearts are not.  _ Desire _ rises in his gut area, in his chest. His body slips in keeping its form, just for a second. A shadow, standing upright under the trees. 

No, no, no,  _ no!  _ He lasted so long with her heart inside of him, surely he can last a little longer. 

(He can’t.)

(Weakling.)

“I’ll keep watch,” he manages, with his barely fitting together tongue and teeth. Doesn’t even wait for an answer, vanishes into the shadows of this world. 

Vanitas lets him go. Of course he does. He knows very well what it means when Demyx’ eyes bleed yellow all over the rest of his ‘face’, when his coat looks less and less like a coat and more like an extra layer of fuzzy shadow skin. 

For an incalculable amount of time, Demyx is no longer Demyx. Nothing but Darkness in the darkest of places. The World hums, the tempting hum of a Heart. Good thing it’s already Locked, otherwise he might have accidentally ended Twilight Town as its inhabitants know it. 

Good thing, right? 

Ugh. He  _ disgusts  _ himself, sometimes. Even worse than he was as a Nobody, a useless chicken that sat around all day doing nothing. Now he’s a chicken with no sense of restraint, the worst thing ever. 

Demyx waits in the Darkness, until he can finally come back together. 

Until Vanitas needs him.

 

* * *

 

“What’s  _ his  _ problem?” Vanitas doesn’t ever know what’s going on anymore, not since his future self showed up in the Keyblade Graveyard to kick his ass. 

Since then, his life has been a shitshow. An interesting shitshow, and definitely better than being under Master Xehanort, but still a shitshow. And confusing. 

There’s a girl now, all wrapped up in the coat his Master ordered him to wear. A girl that  _ stinks  _ of Light, her heart taken from a Heartless. A Heartless that looks like a person, that talks and acts like one. One that his future self  _ liked.  _ Like a ‘friend’ or something.

“Takes a lot of Will to hold yourself together when you’re nothing but Darkness and heart fragments,” his future self remarks. An answer to his question. 

“Weak,” Vanitas snorts. Then he tenses. Bracing for the sure to be angry response.

“You would see it that way,” is his future self’s only response. He tilts his head, mismatched eyes looking...thoughtful. “I guess I saw it that way once.” 

“He’s  _ weak _ .” Vanitas says again. In that statement there’s a question, a question he refuses to ask out loud. He’s asked too many already. “ _ Broken _ .”

“And you’re not?”

Vanitas bristles. “Of course not! I have to be strong to be whole again.”  _ Like you _ .

His older self shifts from one foot to the other. “Of course. And we’ll get there. Just need to get out of here first.” 

“With  _ her _ ?” Vanitas jerks his head at the girl in question. The only her around here. 

In response, his older self wanders over to the girl and picks her up again. But this time, more carefully, in his arms instead of over his shoulder. 

“Time to get out of these woods,” his older self says, tromping off into said woods. Vanitas hurries after him, boots knocking through all of the plants and leaves in the process. “We’re leaving him behind,” he says, a bit gleefully. 

“No, Demyx’ll find us,” His future self corrects. “No need to worry.”

Vanitas glares at the back of a dark-haired head. “I wasn’t worrying.”

A shrug. “I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Xtra: The Lunar Diviner**

In the end, the Superior ends up ordering to him examine the lab, to look for what the two escapees may have possibly destroyed getting out. Once they get free of the mess the group left behind in the process, of course. 

In Saix’s opinion, Xemnas is merely wanting his pawns out of the area, to not be there to play witness to his great embarrassment. Being trapped by  _ Demyx _ , of all people, in a mess not unlike tar. But it works out for him. He needs to talk to Vexen. 

The Nobody takes his leave, No. i ( _ Xion _ ) following close behind like always. 

Luxord has already awoken at this point. He’s waiting by the door to the labs again, with his cards out like they always are. 

“Luxord,” Saix begins, “Tell me what happened.”

“As straightforward as always.” The gambler smirks. He taps his deck. “I’m here, waiting for Vexen, when two people show up. One’s a stranger, another’s a fellow vessel.” 

_ Vanitas _ . Out of all the vessels, the ones that were not directly some version of Xehanort, Saix would have expected his betrayal the least. The boy(?) really had nowhere else to go, along with no one that wanted to find him. He spent all of his time wandering around the Keyblade Graveyard, in the heart of the Organization’s territory, whenever not needed for a mission. It made very little sense for why the angry, rebellious vessel would suddenly go along with a stranger that stood against the Organization he had been a part of from the very beginning. 

“The stranger puts me to Sleep, to get into the lab. Anything else...” Luxord shrugs. “Who knows, but the players themselves?”

Saix inclines his head. “I see. Stay here and await further orders.” As he enters the lab in question, Luxord calls after him. 

“It’s not like I’ll be doing anything else!”

“I was not speaking to you.” The puppet ( _ girl _ ) does as ordered, standing perfectly still next to Luxord. Waiting for his return. 

 

The lab when he enters it, unsurprisingly, is a mess. It seems the stranger went out of their way to personally wreck each and every computer, along with other fine delicate tools. Burn marks on the walls, and what’s left of the tables is charred wood. 

Vexen’s laying there, on the floor. Seems he got caught in a Sleep as well. Saix goes over to nudge him in the ribs, but before he can, the scientist rolls over to blink up at him with bright yellow eyes. 

Awake, it seems. The whole time? 

“Never cast a Sleep on someone full of stimulants, it’s completely useless,” Vexen informs his audience, rising to his feet with a dignified wobble to his step. 

“I will have to keep that in mind,” Saix says, making a mental note to never try the scientist’s energy drink mixes.  

“Once they cast Sleep on me, they were under the impression that it worked. Therefore, I was able to hear the most interesting information...” Vexen turns around to look at Saix in the eyes, yellow meeting yellow. 

“They were concerned about an individual by the name of ‘Luxu.’” Vexen frowns. “That this Luxu might find out the identity of the completed replica through a spy placed in our amist.”

Luxu...the name is not familiar. But for these strangers, this Demyx and this armored newcomer come to ‘rescue’ him, laughing in Xemnas’ face, defying Xehanort in deed and in word, to be possibly fearful of this Luxu...means nothing good. 

“It would be best if you told no one of that,” he says calmly. “There is nothing we can do about it now.” 

“That replica, they took the one meant for  _ Roxas _ ,” Vexen hisses in response. “Surely there must be something to be done about  _ that. _ ”  

Saix’s hand tightens into a fist. The replica for Roxas, gone? That’s...not good news. How will the Light ( _ Lea _ ) have enough to fight against Xehanort, without the extra support that Roxas could provide? 

(But what can be done?)

(He’s just  _ useless _ . A mere tool.)

“There isn’t another replica to serve as a substitute?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

“Of course not! Do you think replicas just grow on trees? It takes time to create one perfectly, to the exact specifications needed.” 

“What if you created one  _ imperfectly _ ? A quick copy?” 

“...Possibly. But once the vessel went, the heart will go as well. And surely you don’t want Roxas to be vanishing back into the void, after all you’ve been doing for him.” 

Saix looks away, at the shredded main computer. “It might have to be done, for the Light to have enough strength on their side.”

_ For Lea to make it. _

“Not necessarily.” Vexen smiles. “You see, those fools may have destroyed the computers in the area, but they certainly did not properly dispose of the drives that carry my research. I can see exactly what they downloaded into the replica they stole.”

“How will that do us any good?”

“Because if my suspicions are correct...” Vexen goes up to the ruin metal, carefully picking up a block of wiring. “They may be carrying around another heart of Light.”

Saix narrows his eyes. “We’ll see. But first, I believe you have a mission to go on.”

“To track that box?” Vexen shakes his head. “Not nearly as important as seeing what I can recover here!”

“You know your orders.”

“Of course.” Yellow meets yellow once more. “And you know yours.” 


	14. Lilith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Poor Decision is made. Trauma takes a hand. And Merlin finally shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence and blood. Not heavily described but someone is hurt pretty badly.

Once enough time has passed, of the two practicing to properly wield their Keyblades, Naminé decides that she should pass down more of her knowledge.

Namely, how to escape basic holds. A good skill, one that everyone should know, especially short Princesses of Heart. 

Now, if only Axel would stop arguing with her about this one particular hold...

 

“Why can’t you demonstrate?” Axel asks. 

“I don’t quite have the necessary strength for this.” Naminé attempts to smile. It falls flat. “You can do it instead.”

“But you said that those holds only take proper leverage, not str-” 

“I know what I said!” Naminé snaps. “And you can do it, not me.”

“What’s special about this hold?” Kairi asks.

Naminé glances over at the young girl, just as quickly glancing away again. “It’s one you can’t break physically. An enemy will twist your arm back, make it so you can’t use your Keyblade properly,” she explains. 

Kairi rubs at her chin. “Then...how do you counter that?”

Naminé smiles approvingly. “Through magic, of course. I have a simplified Thunder spell that I use, to ‘zap’ whoever’s holding me. Just enough to get them to let go.” 

“Oh...how do I do that?”

Hm. Naminé frowns. How does she show Kairi how to do that? 

“You could try with me,” Axel suggests. “Just don’t zap me too hard.”

“Hm.” She’s not sure that’s a good idea. Her gut recoils at the thought of being so vulnerable. But it’s for the greater good isn’t it? Kairi needs to know how to escape her enemies, so  _ it  _ will never happen. 

She gives the matter a little bit more thought, before nodding. “Alright. I’ll only tag you a little. Enough to be felt, and nothing more. Go ahead.”

“Alright.” Axel reaches out for her right arm. Naminé offers him her left instead. He blinks. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I’ll stop anytime.”

“Just get it over with!” she snaps.

Axel tilts his head. “Actually, I’m less sure about this now.”

Naminé takes in a deep breath. “It has to be done. I will teach you both how to do this.  _ Grab _ .  _ Me. _ ”

Whatever it takes, to protect Kairi. 

A gloved hand closes around her left arm, pulling her up into an uncomfortably familiar position. Her chest shivers, her breath stutters. 

 

He’s holding her up by the arm. 

()

Lilith’s holding her up by the arm.

Holding Kairi up by her arm. 

Kairi squirms but can’t get herself free. The angle is wrong, twisting her arm and her hand back. She can’t use her Keyblade, not like this. 

Held up like this, she can’t get the leverage to fight back. 

She’s helpless. 

She’s alone.

 

“ _ You’re not alone, Kairi, I’m here too.” _

Naminé. Kairi smiles, just a little.  _ I’m glad _ .

“ _ We should fight together,” _ the Nobody suggests. 

_ You charge me up, I cast the spell? _

_ “Ready!” _

Kairi mentally nods her head.  _ Let’s go for it.  _

As one, they move. Naminé focuses on a spell,  _ Faith _ . Kairi reaches to push that spell into Destiny’s Embrace. The Light concentrates...only to jitter out into nothingness.

Failure. 

_ How? _

 

Lilith glances down, claws digging into her captive’s wrist.  

“You think your Keyblade can do anything against  _ me _ ?” A snort of almost laughter. “ _ Pathetic _ .” Pain, something digging in their side, their hand-! 

A Keyblade of gold and flower. Shattering. Impossible. How can a Keyblade be broken like that?

“Some things can’t be fixed. Now, give me your hand...”

A blade comes out. One forged of total Darkness. A knife, more than anything longer like a sword. Enough to do the job. 

Lilith slices Kairi’s right hand off. It falls to the ground, blood. Pain.  _ Pain _ . They’re screaming, the two souls in one body. 

Then, they’re dropped like a sack of potatoes, to curl up in agony. 

“Best way to disarm a Keyblade Warrior, you know. Can’t summon a Keyblade if you don’t have a hand to summon it with,” Lilith lectures, twirling her bloody knife back into oblivion. She pauses. “Heh,  _ disarm _ . That’s a good one.” 

The Sins-blessed assassin prances over, kicking Kairi over onto her back. The screaming gets louder. 

“Oh shut up already. It’s not that bad, I’ve lost hands before.” She kneels, pushing her hand into Kairi’s chest. The Princess of Heart’s body jerks underneath the touch, struggling and wiggling to escape. All to no avail. 

Lilith pulls out...a Heart. Red hair pales to almost white, in streaks, once the Heart is pulled out. 

_ Naminé _ . 

 

“Light, Dark...it takes both to be truly strong. But first...the Light.” Lilith holds up the pulsing Heart in her hand, examining it under the bright light of two suns. There is not a shadow to be seen in it. As to be expected of a Princess of Heart. 

“Now the Sins, I hear, only want the shards of the original Light. Not the hearts that serve as containers.” 

A fanged smirking grin, a forked tongue sneaking out to flick at her lips.  “I’ll take care of that for them.” 

Naminé sobs at the sight, clutching at her bleeding bleeding wrist. 

Lilith  _ crushes  _ the Heart, until there is nothing left. Nothing but Light. The Heart,  _ Kairi _ , she’s gone. Forever. The Light goes into a pouch, somewhere. Not that it matters. Not for Naminé. 

Screaming. So much screaming. Naminé’s not sure if it’s her or the Heart. Or both. 

Lilith glances over, slitted yellow eyes full of annoyance. “Oh shut up already. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“What?” Naminé whispers hoarsely. “What?” 

Lilith smirks. “I heard you, heard your Heart  _ longing  _ for a body for your own. You  _ hated  _ the Princess of Heart, for having what you could not. You  _ envied  _ her with all of your being.” She gestures with a bloody hand at Naminé. “Well, now you have it! You got what you wanted! A body of your very own.”

“Not like this!” The Nobody weeps. There’s blood all over her, the rate the blood keeps coming out of her, she’ll die.  _ She deserves it _ . 

 

“Hm.” Yellow eyes look her over, considering. The assassin walks over once more, grabs onto Naminé’s ( _ Kairi’s _ ) handless wrist. Naminé jerks, bringing up a weak leg to kick at her enemy. 

Said enemy completely ignores that kick, focusing all attention on the bleeding arm. “Well, I suppose I owe you. Never would have been able to track the Princess down, without your Envy to serve as a scent.” A green light gleams through her claws, sealing up the arm into a healed up nub. 

“No, no, no!” Naminé bangs her hand (her remaining hand) against the rough rock. Scratches her fingers up, what does she care? “Give her back! Kill me. Me for her.”

Lilith stands up. Smiling down at her victim. “Can’t. Your beloved princess is nothing more than stardust now. Only way to properly free the Light.”

She leans down, reaching out to grab Naminé’s face, pulling the Nobody’s face closer to her own. “As for killing you...”

A face-splitting grin, all fangs and blood and spattered gore. 

“The Sins still have a use for you.” 

Naminé jerks her head free. “What? Who are you!?”

Lilith stands up, turning to walk away. “Why, I’m part Luxu, of course! Maybe I should take you with me...”

Claws close around Naminé’s arm, pulling her up out of her puddle of blood.

()

“No!” Naminé screams. Her entire body jerks, volts upon volts of magical energy surging through her. 

Courses up through her arm to hit...Axel?

She falls to the ground. Axel falls as well. Smoking. Naminé glances down at her left hand, at her handless arm, both still sparkling with electricity. 

“Axel!” Kairi cries out, rushing to be by his side. She reaches down to touch him, only to be stopped by Naminé’s raised hand. 

“Stop, it might not be safe!”

 

She killed him. She killed Axel by shooting a Thundaga directly into his heart. 

Oh Light. Oh Void. What has she done? She crawls over, pushing Kairi aside carefully. 

Checks his pulse. His breathing. Both are absent. 

Energy still in him, zapping her fingers. 

Has to get it out, get his heart beating. She reaches out with her magic, to direct the lightning. Surges to the heart once more. Pump. Pump. Pump. 

Three times. Her scorched fingers wiggle, drawing the lighting back into herself. Will it be enough?

Naminé checks the pulse again. Weak...but it’s there. 

Now, for the important part. It’ll hurt...but it’s his due. She  _ hurt  _ him. Payback.

“Curaja!” she whispers. A familiar green magic pours out of her, every bit of it she can muster. All into Axel. 

Her vision fuzzes. She keeps going. Until she has nothing more to give. Naminé slumps onto her side, vision going dark.

And knows nothing more.   
  


* * *

 

Why is she always  _ so useless _ !? 

“Cure!” Kairi tries, healing magic washing over the two bodies on the ground. 

“ _ Why would she do that?”  _

“I don’t know,” Kairi tells the girl inside of her. “I think...it was an accident.” 

“ _ What kind of accident is that?” _ Naminé asks, feeling...guilty? 

“Naminé, it’s not your fault. It’s not the other Naminé’s fault either, but you’re not the same person. Like we’re not the same person.” 

“ _ Aren’t we _ ?” 

Kairi glances over at the grown Naminé, at the right sleeve that’s flopped back. Revealing an arm with no hand there. “No. You’re not,” she says firmly. “You could be...” 

And once, Kairi thought that was the coolest thing. The thought that Naminé could grow up to be the well-versed woman that stood before her, who knew so much about Keyblades and magic and was kind enough to help her and Axel.

 

But...she’s hurt. Hurt somewhere Kairi can’t see, beyond the missing hand. 

Hurt in a way Kairi’s heart aches for, like the time Sora almost pulled his Keyblade on her when she surprised him from behind once. Or how Riku once broke every mirror in his house, throwing the glass shards into the trash bin with bleeding hands. 

She didn’t know how to fix it then, and she still doesn’t know how to fix it now. But she wants to.

Wants to help her. 

“ _ Maybe we should get Merlin?” _

“That’s a great idea, Naminé. Thank you!”

A rush of embarrassment at that. Kairi smiles once more and starts to hike out into the woods. Now, the wizard should be somewhere over there...

 

“Now, they’ll be quite fine. Someone was clever enough to get his heart beating again, before casting a Cure spell. Otherwise it wouldn’t have worked.” Merlin stands up from where’s he been stooping, to check the health of the unconscious Axel and Naminé. “And the other, pure exhaustion.” He looks at Naminé again. “But yes, Axel should be waking shortly.” 

Axel groans suddenly, turning over on his side. “See! Quite alright. But that woman...”

 

“...How curious.” Merlin adjusts his glasses, looking over the unconscious Naminé. “A possibility witch! My my, how interesting.”

“A possibility witch? What’s that? Does she cast possible spells?” Kairi grins at the silly thought. But then stops, reminded that this is  _ Naminé  _ they’re talking about, laid out on the ground. Almost like she’s dead. 

But she’s not! Kairi checked! (Several times.)

“She’s covered in my time magic, you see. I must have cast a spell for her to be here.” Merlin taps his foot, deep in thought. 

“What’s even more curious is that I don’t remember it...but perhaps there is no future me to meet her anymore.” 

Kairi frowns a little. “Because you remember the future...but you don’t remember her?” 

_ “That doesn’t sound good.” _

“No, it does not,” Merlin agrees cheerfully. “But that is something for tomorrow’s me to worry about. For today, we shall get these two to Master Yen Sid.” 

Kairi nods firmly. “He’ll be sure to help.”

“That’s quite right.” Merlin twirls a hand, magic causing the two sleepers to float on after him. “Let’s head out, shall we?”

Kairi nibbles at her lip. “Alright. Let’s do this.”


	15. Tourmaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ajax zones out, is a biased narrator, and fails to play it cool

Ajax isn’t exactly sure what he’s doing here. That’s really a given at this point, however. He’s never really known what he was doing, only that people were in trouble and he should probably do something about that. 

But now he’s done something about that...he’s stuck here with three Keyblade Masters, one of which who might actually hate his guts and everything about his existence. Might. Riku can be hard to read, sometimes. Even harder now that Ajax generally doesn’t give a shit what his ‘template’ thinks. 

 

He trails behind them, fighting the urge to rematerialize Night’s Path back into his hand. They’re talking. About something. His head is buzzing, weighed down with the surplus Darkness surrounding him. Reminds him of home. 

Which doesn’t exist anymore, now that he thinks about it. Or will never exist?

Agh. 

Time travel is confusing. 

He scratches at his ear. Ringing in his ears. Wait...he glances over the three ahead of him. One of them’s taking out a phone, the source of the weird ringing. King Mickey’s phone. He goes back to trying to breath. Whoever’s on the phone will have nothing to do with him, that’s for sure. 

“Hello? What’s the problem?” High pitched voice speaking, probably the King. “Oh? Riku, Aqua, we need to get back right away!”

“Hey, am I included in that?” Ajax can’t help but ask. 

“Of course!” The King says, before the two by his side can object.  

 

In blur of magic and Keyblade-related abilities, the four of them end up at the Tower. Ajax looks up and up and up. The Tower, he recalls faintly, had targeted first Before. Couldn’t have the wise wizard that lived inside helping out against the Sins, after all. 

He’d never met Yen Sid. But wizards were generally interesting people, if prone to using magic for everything like spellcasting was going out of style. 

“What happened, Mickey?” Riku asks. 

Ajax tunes out again, examining the patterning of the wall, of the magic he can feeling humming in those bricks from three feet away. He considers reaching to touch them, but that might not end well. Strange magic almost never does.  

“Hey, are you listening?” 

Ajax looks over at Riku, lips edging into a snarl. “Yes. What is it?”

“We’re heading into the Tower now, if you want to come.” there’s something strange about Riku’s eyes, something that Ajax doesn’t quite like. 

“I’m fine,” he snaps, though he’s not sure why he felt the urge to say that. He pushes past the Keyblade Master, entering the Tower himself. 

Whoa.

That’s...a lot of stairs.

Well, better get climbing then. 

 

At the top, there’s an old wizard. There generally is, at the top of magical towers. Either that or Maleficent, attempting to cast some spell or another to grind you into dust. 

This old wizard must be Yen Sid. Interesting. Ajax’s never met him before. He looks grumpy. Old. 

Ajax glances about the room, taking in everything he can. There’s a young redhair girl in pink, must be Kairi. There’s another old man in blue, must be Merlin. And...there’s Naminé. Laying there on the floor. 

Ajax quashes his first urge, to rush over to her. Don’t want to accidentally anger these wizards, by not showing them respect first. (Don’t lie, you don’t care about respect.)

(You’re just worried about what they’ll do to her if they knew how much you care for her.) 

“We have received an interesting visitor.” Yen Sid’s eyes narrow at Ajax. “And you appear to have one with you as well.” 

“Who is she?” Mickey asks, gesturing to the person in question. To Naminé, laying on the floor. 

“That’s Naminé,” Kairi speaks up, from her side of the room. 

“Naminé? But I thought Naminé was inside of you.” 

“That’s because she’s from the future,” Kairi insists. 

“What? How?” 

“My magic!” Merlin says, sounding proud. Proud of what, Ajax isn’t sure. It’s not like they asked the old wizard for the book that they burnt for magical time-travel fuel. 

Riku, being the smart cookie he is, turns on Ajax immediately. 

“You’re from the future. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“You didn’t ask.” 

“That’s-” Riku sputters. “It doesn’t work like that!”

“Works like that for me.” 

There’s more talking, but Ajax doesn’t care about that. 

He only has eyes for Naminé. Who’s curled up on the floor. 

Ajax kneels down next to Naminé. “Naminé.” 

“I almost killed him,” Naminé says woodenly. “I  _ hurt him so much _ . I hurt him, hurt him,”

Oh no. She’s spiraling. 

“Naminé, may I touch your hair?” he whispers.

She nods. Once. Turns her head to provide him with better access to her long hair. Carefully, Ajax combs his fingers through the strands. Gentle, so not to yank and pull any hair out. 

He can feel her shoulders relax at the soft touches. Still tense in her back, but a little better compared to before. 

“What happened?”

“I was teaching them how to break out of various holds,” Naminé recites. “I was providing an example with Axel.” She stops, her shoulders starting to shake.

“Go on,” Ajax prompts, petting at her hair in efforts to calm her down. 

“ _ Lilith _ ,” she says wretchedly, and just about collapses, jerking her hair out of Ajax’s hands as she slumps down onto her front. “I thought  _ he was Lilith _ .”

Hushed, like Naminé’s telling him a dirty secret. Which he supposes, she is. She  _ hates  _ talking about the day Kairi died, and it took him  _ years _ to get enough details to piece together what had happened. 

(Some days, he hates that Riku was there first.)

(Those same days, he hates  _ himself _ for thinking that, when Naminé needed help.)

(No matter the source.)

(Stupid  _ fake _ .)

He digs himself out of his darker thoughts to turn his attention back to the help Naminé needs  _ right now _ . “Okay, did you heal him?”

“Yes, bu-”

“No buts, healing’s a good first step. Erm.” Ajax searches his memory. “Did you make him an apology card?”

“An apology card? For almost killing someone?” Riku’s first to cut in, surprise, surprise. 

Ajax shrugs. “Yeah, I got one.” He digs into his back pocket where the card in question still resides, though grubby and nearly illegible. 

**Sorrie I almost killed u. thiink u Teem Sin. -Van---s**

Good times. Ajax still has the scars from that incident. 

“Apologies are important, even if you did it by accident. Shows that you care,” he explains, putting the note away. He turns back to Naminé. 

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“I  _ don’t know _ .”

Ajax frowns. He directs his question to Yen Sid, at his desk. “Is he going to be okay?” They didn’t tell her? Why not?

The old wizard inclines his head. “Lea will make a full recovery, thanks to her quick thinking. Unfortunate that she did not seem to hear that when we told her such before.”

Oh. Ajax relaxes. They  _ did  _ tell her, she just didn’t hear in the middle of her panic. Probably. That’s good. No lies, not yet. Maybe? He hopes. 

He nudges Naminé in the back. “See? You helped a lot. You fixed it.”

She curls up into a ball. Um. Ajax decides to leave that be for now, rising to his feet. Folds his arms over his chest, looking the old man straight in the eye. 

“Whatcha gonna do to us now?” He gestures to himself and Naminé. “We’re here to stay, you know.”

The wizard strokes his beard. “Before that is determined, there are a few questions that must be answered first.”

“What happened in the future?” King Mickey cuts in. “And why do you look like Xehanort’s Heartless?”

Ajax smiles. “Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies, for that first one. And as for looking like the Seeker of Darkness...” Ajax looks down at his dark skin, tugs at his silvery hair. “After I fought you, Riku, to become the ‘real’ Riku...you remember?” 

Riku nods stiffly. “Yes.”

“Well, I sunk into Darkness. Into the Realm of Darkness. To get out again, I need pieces of someone that could travel that same realm.” Ajax shrugs carelessly, to hide the trembling in his hands. “I adsorbed what was left of the Seeker of Darkness and the rest is history. Or, er,  _ will  _ be history.”

“You adsorbed Xehanort’s Heartless?” Aqua asks, a look of disgust on her face. “Has that changed anything else about you?”

“Well, I’ve got more power.” Ajax summons a little Dark Fire, to hang over his palm with a purple glow. “Mostly Darkness and stuff. Not really anything else.” 

Aqua’s eyes narrow at him in a glare. He carefully looks away, putting the Fire out as he does so. No need to aggravate the possible future Sin of Ira, in all of her Light-filled glory. 

It’s kinda hard to tell what everyone else is thinking, at this point. King Mickey frowns, stroking his chin, just a bit. Riku’s face is still. Kairi and Merlin both look curious and Yen Sid is the same as ever. 

As long as they’re not gonna kill him, it’s fine if they hate him. Ajax’s dealt with that a  _ lot _ . 

(“Abomination.”)

He nibbles at his tongue, the pain driving away the bad thoughts. Forcibly returning his attention to the conversations going on right now. 

“What are we going to do with them?”

 

“I want to continue teaching Axel and Kairi,” Naminé interrupts, uncurling from her tiny safety ball. She raises her head to look Yen Sid straight in the face. Yen Sid raises his eyebrows at that. He’s not the only one doing so in the room. 

“After the fiasco where you injured Axel, you  _ still  _ want to teach them?”

Naminé clenches her hands into fists. “I made a mistake. But they need all the help they can get, especially if all of your  _ real  _ Keyblade Masters are going to be too busy to teach them anything  _ useful _ .”

Her blue eyes harden with determination. “Merlin can watch me, while I do so, to prevent any further accidents.” 

“Hm. What say you, Merlin?” Yen Sid asks. 

Merlin nods. “I’d be happy to supervise, as long as both Axel and Kairi agree.”

“Okay!” Kairi blurts out. She shuffles her feet, as everyone turns to look at her. “I’d love the help, and I’m sure Axel won’t hold a grudge.” 

“Let’s ask him first, before we make any assumptions,” Aqua suggests gently. 

“Of course.” Naminé bows her head. “I will wait for his answer, once he recovers. I won’t force it, if he doesn’t want my help.”

Yen Sid nods once. “Excellent. Now, Master Aqua, we should prepare to retrieve Ventus.” 

“Of course.” Aqua steps forward. “I’d like to go as soon as possible.” 

“Aqua, maybe you should rest first,” Mickey suggests, stepping forward as well. 

“I can’t, Mickey. Ventus has waited too long already.” 

“Well, at least take one of us with you,” the mouse says, holding his hands out. 

“I’ll go,” Riku volunteers. Of course. 

Yen Sid shakes his head slowly. He seems to do everything slowly, speak, move, all of that and more. No wonder the Sins were able to take him out so fast. 

“First, Riku, I would like you to escort this...”

“Ajax,” Ajax supplies, resisting the urge to glare at the old man. He doesn’t resist that urge very well. 

“Ajax,” Yen Sid accepts, “Escort him to Radiant Garden. The individuals there, I trust, will be able to keep an eye on him.”

“They don’t have any Keyblade wielders there, though.”

“They are still strong, even without the Keyblade. And I presume you, Ajax, do not wish to harm anyone.”

“Not unless they attack first.”

“Excellent. May your heart be your-”

Ajax turns around to stomp through the door before the wizard can finish that statement. He’s heard it enough, thank you very much, from the various Sins sent to torment and attack various worlds. Nothing good about those words. 

“Ajax! Wait!” 

He pauses, just long enough for Naminé to run after him. 

“Good luck,” she whispers into his ear. 

He hugs her. “You too,” Ajax whispers back, “Don’t let Axel run you over.”

She giggles lightly. “Never. Be nice to Riku.”

“...” Ajax looks away, from those blue blue eyes.

“Ajax,” Naminé sighs. “We need some good will.”

“I’ll only tell the truth and nothing more, got it?”

Naminé steps back, accepting that’s the best she’s going to get out of him. “Oh well. Again, good luck!”

She pecks him lightly on the cheek, before walking back into the wizard’s den.

Ajax smiles, just a little, rubbing at said cheek. He glares at Riku, who has just walked out. “What are you looking at?”

 

* * *

 

Radiant Garden was one of the first worlds to fall Before (again), if Ajax remembers correctly. Demyx had been the only survivor (technically) and he still didn’t talk about it. 

Except to mention that it was probably better off for everyone that the scientists of the world were ‘dead for reals,’ as the Heartless had put it. 

Will that be problem, these scientists? Ajax resolves silently to keep a careful eye out. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long for Riku to get his Gummiship to Radiant Garden. Ajax jumps off as soon as humanly possible, once they arrive. 

Riku follows at a much slower pace, careful not to step on the nice grass that Ajax tromps all over. 

 

“So this is who we’re supposed to watch?”

Ajax’s mind blanks out. Just for a second, any longer is too dangerous. But that’s  _ Zexion _ standing there, talking to Riku.  _ Zexion,  _ who he  _ murdered.  _

Oh, this won’t be awkward at all. 

Ajax curls his fingers. 

Does Zexion still have the marks from when he choked the Nobody to death? No, bad thoughts. Don’t be thinking about that. 

(He’ll hate you, for killing him.)

Now, play it cool, play it cool. 

“I killed you.” Not playing it cool!

Zexion pauses midstep. “Pardon me?”

“I’m the Replica that killed you,” Ajax clarifies. He flexes his fingers. “Like this?”

Zexion looks away so Ajax can’t see his face. Not that he can see much, underneath all of that hair in Zexion’s face. Dude should put it up. 

The former Nobody isn’t saying anything. Completely silent. He puts a hand up his cloth covered throat, where Ajax choked the life out of him. 

“I’m sorry,” Ajax tacks on, “Know it’s not enough, but sorry I killed you.” Ajax puts his hands behind his head, before lowering them again. He looks Zexion up and down nervously. 

“I’ll leave,” he offers, “If you don’t want to be near me.” Maybe Yen Sid will have another location for him to go...?

“It’ll be fine,” Zexion finally answers. “I accept your apology, as unnecessary it is.”  

Ajax shakes his head fervently. “Don’t say that! Apologies are always needed when someone does wrong to somebody else! I hurt you and that was wrong, so I had to say sorry. You see?”

“...You have strong feelings about this,” Zexion observes, tugging at the sleeves of his lab coat. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ajax clenches his fists. “It’s either I’m a person and I did you wrong, or I’m a tool and someone used me to hurt you. Both are bad, but I’d rather be a person than a tool, Zexion. People can become better. Tools just break.”

Zexion flinches slightly. “It’s Ienzo, actually. Not Zexion.”

“Oh, sorry, Ienzo.” Ajax pauses, reaching back to scratch at the back of his head. “Um, do you know where I’ll be staying here in Radiant Garden?”

“Here at the castle,” Ienzo answers. Which only makes sense, now that Ajax thinks about it. The people at the castle must be highly trusted by the Riku’s Keyblade gang to be watching him for any possible threat. Either that, or the Keyblade gang doesn’t care if Ajas rips through Radiant Garden. Less likely, but still a possibility. 

“Alright,” Ajax nods, before turning to flick a hand at Riku. “Smell ya later.”

“Why are you like this?” Riku asks plaintively. Probably rhetorical, the way he’s phrasing it. Ajax decides to answer him anyway.  

“I hate you.”

Riku’s eyes widen, clearly not expecting that answer. “What?”

“Well, I was made to be another you. And who hates you more than yourself?” 

Ajax smirks at the surprise on Riku’s face. He leans forward to flick him in the forehead. “You should think about that,” he calls back, turning to follow after Ienzo through the castle halls. Away from Riku. 

Ajax tugs at his long silver hair, frowning. It’s everywhere now, his hair. Might need to fix that. 

“Um, do you have any hair ties?”

 

* * *

 

Ienzo isn’t exactly sure why the Riku Replica ( _ Ajax _ ) is even here. He’s apparently from the future, which explains why he looks so different from his original template. Less like Riku, more like  _ Xehanort.  _

There’s an explanation for that too, one that makes an uncomfortable amount of sense. If Vexen created the replicas to change appearance in response to whose data they received, it makes sense for a replica to look like Xehanort, if it took in Xehanort’s power. Doesn’t make the situation any less uncomfortable, however. 

 

Thankfully,  _ Ajax _ (as he prefers to be known) keeps to himself. At least, he has so far. Leaving Ienzo to his self-appointed work of looking through the digital Twilight Town to form a place for Roxas’ heart to be placed. 

There’s something uncomfortable, an emotion he can’t quite name coming from his newly regained heart, about having Ajax here. It’s easier, when the Replica only comes down for meals and Ienzo runs no risk of seeing him elsewhere in the castle. 

At least, that’s what happens for three days.

 

Fourth day, the situation changes. 

Fourth day, Ienzo goes down to the lab to find Ajax curiously poking through some files he had left on the table the night before. His long silver hair is not in its customary braid, but a messy bun of some sort. His orange vest is also gone, replaced by black T-shirt. 

“What are you working on?” the replica asks, holding a sheet up to the light. 

“Can you put that down, please?”

Ajax carefully places the page back onto the messy table, turning a green eyed gaze curiously towards him. “So, what are you working on?” he repeats. 

Ienzo sighs. It seems he will have to give an answer, if only to be left alone. “I am attempting to examine the coding for a digital Twilight Town to possibly find Roxas’ data profile.”

“Roxas...hm.” Ajax hums. “What’s the data for?”

“So I can put into a replica to make him a body, outside of Sora,” Ienzo explains. 

“Could you just make a digital body physical? Naminé told me you can make physical bodies digital, so why not the other way around?” The questions are surprising in-depth for an individual that didn’t appear to be a scientist like himself. 

Ienzo shakes his head. “No, because digitizing someone is simply relying on the soul, or life force, to reform itself around the heart in the digital realm, not the actual body. It cannot be done the other way around because the ‘soul’ and ‘heart’ in the digital realm do not have a physical form to use, if they started out as data.” 

Ajax hums again. “Huh. So that’s what replicas are for. To serve as the ‘physical’ for that data ‘soul’ and ‘heart’.” 

“Exactly.” Ienzo looks at the computer screen, at the scrolling lines of programming. “Unfortunately, I do not have half of Vexen’s skill when it comes to the more biological part of creating a replica.” 

“Could you do it if you had an example on hand?” 

“...Perhaps,” Ienzo says carefully. Is Ajax offering what he thinks he’s offering? “It would make for a decent start, at least.”

Ajax offers a hand to Ienzo. “Alright. Try me then.” He chuckles slightly. “Just don’t cut me open or anything. No, really.”

“Are you sure?” Ienzo tugs at his sleeve. 

Ajax pats his hair bun. “As sure as I’ll ever be.”

“Um.” Ienzo glances around the lab, before spotting an old chair in the corner. He points towards it. “Sit there, then, and I’ll get started as soon as possible.”

Ajax nods, walking over to sit in the chair. They sit in silence for a few minutes, as Ienzo pulls out the necessary equipment to start, before Ajax decides to speak again. 

“Have you ever considered clipping your hair back? Out of your face?”

Ienzo sighs. “...did Aeleus put you up to this?”


	16. Sea of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sora gets the romanticized side of pirates and Skuld gets something...grittier.

The Gummiship is nice, Skuld supposes. She doesn’t have very much experience with ships in general, mostly with Gliders and travel through Dark Corridors. Or by foot in the Realm of Dreams, as was common when things got rougher. 

Nice, but rather boring. Sure, there may be Heartless wandering the spaces between but the Gummiship is well-armed, able to take care of any possible foes with ease. None of the thrill of possible violent death the other three options over. 

Boring. 

 

She listens to Sora’s heart, for lack of anything else to do. There’s something strange about it, something about how loud it is...

(“Now, Sora, he’s an interesting one...”)

She frowns, shaking her head ever so slightly. The memory fragment flickers away she can pin it down further. Who was saying that to her, about Sora?

Well, she can figure that out later.  

Wait, but his heart...oh.

“You have more than one heart,” Skuld breathes. 

“You can tell?” Sora twists around 

“May I listen?” she requests, rather than giving a straight answer. She stands, walking over to Sora.

“Sure?” 

Skuld kneels, bringing her head closer to Sora’s chest. Listening to hearts is really more of a metaphysical thing than anything truly physical, but making the motions does seem to help. She  _ listens.  _

The tune of Sora’s high-pitched flutelike (though it’s not a flute, but instead something much more...high pitched) heart is loudest, almost drowning the others out. Skuld focuses, to bring out the other instruments (the other hearts) present. A tinkling of keys, much like a piano, plays quietly in support of a flute’s sorrowful tune. And underneath it all, an oboe carrying the rest. 

“Three hearts, in your own. That’s a lot.” 

“Do you know anything about them?” Sora breathes out. His heart starts pumping faster. 

“Shh.” She puts one hand up, in supplication for quiet. “Calm down, so I can listen some more.”

“Take deep breaths, Sora,” Goofy advises. 

“Okay, okay, I will.” With those breaths, Sora’s heart quiets down til the rest of the hearts can be more clearly heard. 

The piano(?) and flute play together in a duet, almost. The flute is a little bit late, at times, but the two are pretty close. The oboe drones in the background, always in the background, just as steady and sure as the tide coming in and out.

“One that’s been there the longest. Two others, pretty close together, came in about the same time.” She slowly rises to her feet. “They knew each other, before.” 

But even as she says that out loud, she’s not quite sure if she’s correct in naming only three hearts. What about that strange deeper beat, almost like a drum, underneath it all? 

 

“Skuld...” Sora says quietly. “You’re crying.” 

Oh? Skuld puts up a hand to her face. It’s wet, tears running down her cheeks. So she is. There’s a warm hand on her back. She nearly flinches but manages to still her body before she can do anything that she’ll regret. “It’ll be okay, Skuld.” Goofy. That must be who the hand belongs to. 

Donald taps at his chair’s arms. “Three hearts, like that kid said.” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sora agrees. “One’s Ventus and another’s Roxas...the third one knew Roxas, I guess, if one of those two close hearts is Roxas.” He sniffles, just a little. “They must be friends.”

“Yes, they are,” Skuld says in full confidence. “The very best of friends.”

“I’m going to help them,” Sora replies. “I promised I would, with all my heart.” 

(“Be careful not to use your heart up!”)

She forces a smile on her smile. “That’s a good promise to make. Excuse me, I have to go. Where’s the bathroom?” 

“Down the hall,” Donald answers. 

She hurries out of the room.

 

* * *

When Skuld’s gone, Sora looks at his nails and considers biting them. During his first journey among the Worlds, he remembers chewing his nails down to nubs, until Donald and Goofy teamed up to make him stop. 

 

“What’s wrong, Sora?” Goofy asks him. “Usually you’re not so nervous around new people.” 

“It’s...different, this time.” Sora gestures with a single hand, scratching at the back of his head with the other. “She’s a Keyblade Master!”

“Riku’s a Master too!” Donald points out, tapping his webbed foot against the ground. “The two of you took a huge test for it.” 

“Yeah, but...Riku’s different.” Sora’s face screws up, as he tries to catch his stray thoughts with words. “I know him and he knows me.”

“And you don’t know Skuld at all,” Goofy finishes. 

Donald pokes Sora in the chest. “So what’s the problem? You meet lots of people all of the time.” 

Goofy nudges the mage. “Didn’tcha listen? Skuld’s a  _ Keyblade Master. _ Sounds like she knows what’s she doing! And Sora’s worried about messing up in front of her!”

Donald’s eyes widen at that revelation. “Ooooh.” He switches from poking Sora to patting him on the shoulder. “It’ll be alright.” 

He’s no little kid anymore. But the words are comforting. Somehow. 

The dashboard beeps. Sora looks up, to see the world right before them. “Oh, we’re there!”

 

* * *

 

Her clothes are...different, on this world. Something certainly  _ feels  _ different about them. 

Under her blindfold she blinks. Running her hands up and down the new layers and fabrics, she attempts to ascertain the smaller details. Some sort of ribbon lacing itching on her bare back, the tightness around her chest....her blouse has become a corset of some kind. 

Her skirts are more spread out, if a bit longer. Reaching to the knee, instead of mid-thigh. The boots...sturdy, from the feel of it. Some kind of leather, maybe? Tall boots, ending just a little below her new skirts. 

“Whoa, you look great, Skuld!”

She taps a foot against the ground, swirling her skirt. “You really think so?”

“Of course! How about me? Do I look pretty good?”

“Um.” Skuld isn’t sure how to answer that.

Thankfully Goofy saves her. “Garwsh, Sora, don’t you remember? She can’t see you.”

“Oh. I’m sorry...” She can practically hear the kid drooping, as part of his heartfelt apology. 

“Why are my clothes different?” Skuld asks, partly to get the attention off Sora, partly because she’s curious. 

“It’s part of the magic!” Donald explains, “To preserve the world order!” 

Oh. That would explain it. 

“What is this world then?” 

“Pirates!” She hears thumping on wood planks, as Sora hops around excitedly. Again. “We’re gonna be pirates, now.” 

“Pirates, huh...” Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “I’ve always wanted to be a pirate.” 

“Me too!”

“Hoist the sail! We’re going to sail to the end of the world!” Sora calls out. 

“Aye-aye, Captain Sora!” Donald calls out.

Skuld tries a salute, though she’s not sure if she’s doing in the right direction. Or the right way, she’s no soldier. Oh well, he’ll see it probably. 

“Captain Sora!” Goofy yells, “We’re hitting the end of the world! What do we do?”

“Well...try going the other way!”

“Too late, we’re going doooown....”

Rushing water, out to the nothingness. A sudden fall, where there’s time for one last scream. Then nothing more.

 

* * *

 

There’s sand as far as the eye can see. White sand, dusty sand, all under a blazing sky that doesn’t appear to have a sun. 

Sora...well, he does what he’s always done: he starts walking. Picks a direction and just  _ goes  _ for it, his friends following close behind. Except for Skuld, who’s...still laying on the ground. Facedown. 

“Skuld? Are you okay?”

“Murph.” 

“Um...” He walks back over, kneeling to poke her in the shoulder. 

She rolls over. Her front is covered in white. Looking like a ghost. 

“Need a hand?”

“No, I got this.” She rolls over again, onto her front, using her hands and knees to prop herself back up. To stand up. Her hands brush off her front, returning the rich purple cloth to its original state. 

Her stick, for walking, returns with a flash after she holds a hand out for it. 

“Where to next?”

Sora shrugs. “I don’t. How bout you just follow the sound of my voice?”

Skuld tilts her head, in an almost nod. “Alright. Go ahead.” 

 

“This is a weird place.”

“It’s a desert, that’s for sure,” Goofy adds, glancing around. 

Out of nowhere, someone runs past them. It’s...Jack?

“Hello there, bye there!” 

“Um...follow that pirate!” Sora shouts, breaking out into a run of his own. Jack’s chasing a ship? His ship. Oh good, he knows what to do now! 

Donald and Goofy follow behind closely. Skuld comes as well, at her own pace. “Watch out!” she shouts, “Heartless!”

He looks around frantically. “Where!?”

At that point, Heartless jump out of the sand, spraying the white grains everywhere. 

“Oh, there.”

“Here we go!”

 

After fighting  _ lots  _ of Heartless, catching the ship, there’s more people. Some familiar, some not. Will and Elizabeth are there, which is great.

And someone else he knows is there too, which is less great...

“How is he here? He’s supposed to be dead!” Sora shouts, gesturing at Barbossa. 

“Supposed to be dead? Well, he kinda is,” Skuld cuts in. “At least, if that’s what that extra soul binding his heart means...”

“How do you know that?” he asks her.

She tugs at her earlobe in reply. Sora nods, eyes lighting up in comprehension. “Oh.”

 

“And who might you be?” Jack saunters up, looking Skuld up and down. “You don’t seem the type to travel the seas, especially since seeing...” He gestures to his face, towards his eyes. 

A flash and two  _ knives  _ fall by Jack’s face, nearly taking off the man’s nose if he hadn’t jerked by in time. The daggers plunge themselves in the mast.

Silence. Except for that strange woman, Tia Dalma, laughing to herself in the background. 

“I don’t need eyes to know where you are, Mr. Jack Sparrow,” Skuld says confidently, hands on her hips. “Your babbling will do well enough for me.” 

“Er, of course, m’dam. And it’s Captain, not ‘Mister’.” 

She inclines her head. “Captain, then. Captain Jack Sparrow.” 

Her gold and blue daggers vanish in sparkles of stars, reappearing in her hands. Head held high, she turns to walk away from Jack, across the deck. 

It’s cool to watch, even if the entire scene plays out at Jack’s disadvantage. Maybe especially so. 

Skuld’s  _ cool _ . Maybe she’ll teach him how she can hear hearts some time. Wouldn’t that be  _ awesome _ ? 

“Man, I can’t wait to tell Riku and Kairi about this,” he says, weaving his hands behind his head. He wonders what it’s like to hear hearts. It seems like music, the way she describes it. But will he hear that way?

Maybe it’ll be heartbeats instead for him!

He’ll have to ask. After they’ve saved the sea from Davy Jones, of course!

 

* * *

 

They all sound like ordinary people to her. A dozen or more new songs that she has no desire to pay attention too long to. All but the strange not-dead man and the older woman, by the name of Tia Dalma. Tia Dalma sounds like...the ocean. Water trickling and churning, trapped in a bottle. 

Bigger than the container that holds her. Almost like Demyx, who somehow is both the ocean and the container at the same time, strange as that seems. 

Once Sora’s wandered off, to talk to Jack some more, and the animal duo have gone to watch for Heartless, she walks over and asks, “Who are you?”

The internal sea churns harder. “The sea.” Truth. 

“...You’re trapped,” Skuld observes, frowning. “Unless you’re supposed to be this small?”

“Nevar.” 

“...I could free you,” Skuld offers, fingers tight around her staff. Her Keyblade. Her heart aches. She’s run into others like this in her time, forces of nature chained to another’s bidding. Elementals stolen from their homeground. Skuld does what she can, as she does in all cases, but sometimes...it’s not enough.  

“You and I both know you can’t do that.” Tia Dalma reaches out to wrap her fingers around Skuld’s free hand. They’re cold, she can’t help but notice, cold as ice. “One prisoner cannot free another.” 

Skuld jerks her hand free. “Who ever said I was a prisoner?”

“Your heart, girlie.” Tia Dalma lays a hand over her own heart. “Your soul is just as chained as mine own.” 

Skuld rubs at her chest. “I have duties I need to perform. Things to do.”

Tia Dalma laughs once. “Duty is its own kind of chain.”

Skuld nods, tracing her fingers along her brow. “Once that is done, I can stop. I can  _ finally  _ stop,” she speaks in a hushed tone, almost like she’s confessing a terrible secret to the woman.

Said woman leans against the mast at her back. “The waves can give you what you long for, sweet thing.” 

Skuld sighs, tapping around on the wooden floor. “Yes. But not yet.” 

“Heartless!” screams a familiar duck. Skuld tilts her head over in the direction of the sound. 

“Well...time to work.” 

Starlight comes to her hand, with a little effort. She moves towards the sound of the ruckass, Thunder building along her fingers. 

Ready or not, Heartless, here she comes. Raising her hand, focusing on the fuzzy Heartless sounds, she strikes out with lighting racing from each finger. While Sora’s heart, for whatever reason, rises higher and higher. 

Weird. But the least she can do is back him up, without knocking him down. Somehow. 

She focuses once more on her work, Thunder lacing out to the sky she cannot see and cannot reach. Like weaving a web, almost, of electric force. She keeps the power moving, jumping from flying Heartless to flying Heartless. 

Until they’re gone, each and every one. The threat destroyed. Never enough to take her down, what a shame. 

Until Sora’s heart is... _ falling from the sky.  _ What!? 

“Sora!” She calls out, alongside Donald and Goofy. “Sora!”

 

Sora’s gone. Frick. He’s gone, fallen from the sky, and Donald and Goofy have gone after him. She had offered, but they politely declined it. Said stay on the ship, keep an eye on things. 

Not that she has any ‘eyes’ to do so with. 

She’s blind. She can’t be much help finding someone in the ocean. Something like that needs eyes. Their reasoning for leaving her behind is sound. Doesn’t mean she has to like it. Especially with how the crew of this ship, this  _ Black Pearl _ , are pretty much tiptoeing around her. 

Awkward. Unwilling to talk. All but Tia Dalma, who always has a few words to share, whenever Skuld wanders by. The little kindness does a lot to keep Skuld sane. 

(Keep you from throwing yourself over the side of the ship to see what you can find, you mean.)

It doesn’t take long, relatively, to get to the meeting of the ‘Brotherhood’ at a place called Shipwreck Island. But every minute stuck on that ship feels like an age and a half. Worse than the Gummiship boredom. 

 

And getting there...there are pirates everywhere. As to be expected. But they’re awful men, too many grabbing at her shoulders, her skirt, everywhere a man’s hand should not be. 

“Do not touch me,” she bites out, whipping herself free of yet another unwelcome grasp. He yelps, most likely shaking out the stinging in her fingers. Honestly, she should thank Namine some time for teaching her that ‘shocking hand’ trick of hers. Perfect for taking care of grabby hands. 

“Witch,” he hisses. Or was that ‘bitch’? Hm. Doesn’t matter. 

Well, it seems that pirates aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Like everything else in the universe. Even knowing this solid fact about reality, Skuld still manages to feel...cheated. 

Her nose wrinkles. This place  _ stinks.  _ Reeks of body odor and trash and a few other things she’d rather not name out loud. Nope. Nope. Not today, not this place.

She turns around, to walk back aboard the ship up its gangplank. 

“Are you not coming?” One of the people she’s been traveling with calls back. Elizabeth, that was her name. 

“I’ll watch the ship,” Skuld says, loud enough to be heard over the roar of waves. “I’m not here for any pirates’ court.”

“Very well,” Captain Jack Sparrow says. He’s probably relieved she’s not coming. That’s fine. She doesn’t need friends in this lot. 

 

Skuld walks aboard, just in time to catch the tail end of a strange conversation. 

“-it’ll take no less than nine to set ye free. Masters Pintel and Ragetti, take this fishwife to the brig.” Barbossa, speaking to...Tia Dalma?  

A crewmember pipes up in reply, either Pintel or Ragetti, with a “Right this way, Mrs. Fish.” The stomping of feet, a crashing ocean moving away, led by a more human heart. 

Nine to set her free? Truly a trapped elemental, then. One Skuld can do nothing about. Or can she?

She hurries over to Barbossa. “Where’s the brig?”

His strange heart, fragmented and pieced together, tied to body by force of memory and deep magic, gives a jump at her appearance. 

“Now, why’d ye want to know that?”

Skuld raises her chin. Hopefully high enough to meet Barbossa in the eyes. If he’s got two, he might just have one, never know with pirates. 

“I’ll keep the sea sitting down there company,” she states clearly, enjoying (just a little) how his heart jumps again at the word ‘sea.’ 

“Who are you?” he almost hisses at her. “How do ye know about her?”

“Skuld,” she says simply, smiling slightly. She tugs at her blindfold. “As for how I know...well, I know lots of things. Now, the brig?”

“Down below, witch,” Barbossa spits, “Ye can find yer own way.”

“Of course.” Skuld gives him a polite nod, making her way to where the human heart led Tia Dalma a little earlier. She pauses. She doesn’t have to do this...but why not?

“Your heart, it’s looking a little tattered there. You should be more careful with it.” 

With that, she leaves the muttering not-dead man behind. 

To Tia Dalma. 

Down below.

 

“Ah, you’re here, Fate weaver.” Tia Dalma sighs, once Skuld hits bottom.

Skuld tilts her head slightly forward. “Fate weaver?” That’s...new. Holds weight to it, in a way the other nicknames do not. A title, almost. 

“That is what you are, are you not? Present for disasters and miracles alike, much like the boy.” Water drips down from above, liquid sloshes in barrels. Suddenly Skuld is very very aware of how much liquid is surrounding her right now. An ocean, just outside. This sea goddess is only trapped in flesh, nothing more, nothing less. There is surely plenty for her to use against Skuld, should Skuld anger her.

(Good thing you’ve killed gods, then, Skuld. Angry gods at that.)

(No need to be afraid.)

“Not really. I’m just...there.” There for terrible things that tear her life apart at the seams. Events she would rather miss, actually. 

“You be Destiny,” Tia Dalma insists. “Destiny, present for the beginning and...the end.”

_ The end.  _ Skuld bites her lip. Her cane vanishes into the ether as she squats down on the floor.  _ The end.  _ The words bang through her brain. 

(“You’ve survived the end of the World twice, Skuld. Maybe that means something.”

“Ephemer. That only means I’m  _ really  _ unlucky.”

“I don’t think so, Skuld.” Cold, fuzzy hands against her face. Blue hopeful eyes, right in her face. “You have to live, Skuld. Live for me.”

Gone, hands disappearing into death. Gone. Only her.

“But I don’t want to,” she gasps out into the silence.)

The creaking of wood shakes her mind free of dark memories. Something moves down here. Something (or someone) that should not be here. Skuld raises her head, just in time for someone to come out of nowhere. Or rather, the  _ wall. _

 

A man who doesn’t feel quite like a man, more like a Nobody, stepping out of the wall...this must be Davy Jones! But why is he coming  _ here _ , if he’s the enemy? 

“Why are you here?” The man demands. A sheen of steel being drawn. He’s probably pointing a sword at her. People like to do that here. 

“No one you need to worry about, my love,” Tia Dalma cuts in, before Skuld brings out her own weapon to point back. 

“Nothing to worry about?” Jones spits. “She’s here with the Brotherhood!”

“Like I am?” 

At that, Jones grows quiet. Well, quieter than a man who doesn’t need to breathe usually is. 

The rustling of cloth, of skirts. “She’s no pirate. No, she’s something else entirely.”

“Like me?” Jones sneers. A joke. 

His ‘lover’ responds entirely seriously to that. 

“Aye, she’s older than this sea and all who roam it.” Tia Dalma smiles. There’s something dark in her heart, otherworldly, that speaks of currents that no earthly man can ever know. “She’ll not interfere with this. Her duties lie elsewhere.”

“Do they?” Davy Jones muses, before turning back to the subject at hand. 

All the while, Skuld listens in the background. Telling herself that this doesn’t matter, that the Brotherhood (dirty nasty pirates grabbing at her, calling her bitch) deserve what’s coming to them. That she shouldn’t care. 

Light, she just wants to find Sora and leave this world behind for good. She’s had enough of this scheming and lying. Her nails dig into her palms. She closes her eyes (not that it matters) and breathes. Focusing. Thinking.   

Can you betray someone, if you’re not on their side?

(“-best kind of traitor. The one that doesn’t even know it!”)

Skuld grimaces, grinding the heel of her hand into her forehead. Gah, it  _ hurts _ . All these images and words that come and go, none making any sense. 

She just wants it to  _ stop.  _

 

Enough of this. Find Sora, get out. That’s the plan. These people don’t need her help and she hasn’t heard any Heartless for miles around, despite all of the darkness in the hearts around here. 

She focuses on the outside world again. It appears the Nobody-ish captain is gone, leaving only her and Tia Dalma in the brig. Good. She needs to talk to the strange woman alone anyway. 

Find Sora. The rest can come after. 

“He’ll go to the  _ Dutchman _ , that’s where the fighting will end up,” Skuld muses out loud. “But how I can find the  _ Dutchman _ ?”

“Every doomed sailor finds their way to that ship,” Tia Dalma says slyly. “The sea always knows where the  _ Dutchman  _ sails.” 

“You are of the sea...could you get me there?” she asks, running a hand through her hair. Her long hair, tangled and full of salt and sand, gross. Ajax would be so disappointed in how poorly she’s been taking care of her hair. 

The shifting of fabric, as Tia Dalma leans against the wall of her cell. “You must put yourself at the mercy of the waves. I cannot do nothing more beyond that, in this state of mine.”

“I see.” And she does. To get to the  _ Dutchman  _ quickly, she’ll have to trust the sea for that. Either that, or use the old-fashioned way of getting another to use their eyes to spy the ship out for her. Which she doesn’t think will work, for obvious reasons. Skuld rises to her feet. 

“I wish you well. May you be freed eventually, Tia Dalma.”

“Oh, I will. And my name is not Tia Dalma.” A thrum of an ancient soul. “I am Calypso.” The ship shudders, almost in response to the name.

“Calypso,” Skuld tries. It tastes of a strange power on her lips. Old power. As old and as wild as the sea. “I won’t forget,” she promises. 

“You won’t,” ‘Calypso’ says confidently. 

Skuld gives a little bow, before turning to leave. She has a lot to think about, right now. 

The ocean...it always leads back to there, doesn’t it? 

(Waves of Darkness, as far as she can see....barely. Her vision fades, growing dimmer and dimmer until there is nothing but the Dark. She blinks, but sees nothing but black. 

“I guess that’s the price. For killing Luxu,” she says out loud, to no one. To no one but herself. 

No one will find her, in this deepest part of the Realm of Darkness. But that’s alright. She came here to be lost, after all.

To never be found again.)

Skuld rubs at her forehead. Focus. She has to focus. They all do. First, the privy. Then, back to Tia Dalma. The woman’ll know what to do. She has to.   

 

When she gets back, Tia Dalma is gone. 

They’re taking her above deck. Taking Tia Dalma to see the sea. It’s time. It’s  _ time.  _

No time to make a decision. But then, there was only one she could ever make. Skuld sucks in as much air as she can fit in her lungs and  _ runs _ . 

She runs, full speed, through the crowd of watching pirates. To where she can hear Tia Dalma’s heart beat, faster and faster. Ready to be free. 

This is her last chance. 

Skuld has to get there before it’s too late. 

Runs and doesn’t stop. Not even for Barbossa shouting at her to. 

She smacks into the railing, doesn’t stop. No, instead vaults over it. Over it to the sea wailing far below against the ship. As she falls, she hopes. Hopes against everything she knows that it’ll be enough. That this sacrifice will be enough. (Some part of her hopes that it isn’t enough. That she won’t wake up after this.)  

Skuld gives herself to the sea. To the roaring of the growing storm in her ears.

 

She knows no more.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: It's great how in KH3 Sora gets to avoid all of the messy plot of the third Pirates movie. That mean I don't have to write any of it!  
> this chapter: No, Skuld's going to hang with out Tia Dalma. An Important part of Plot. So better pull out that movie script!  
> me:  
> me: why  
> this chapter: :3


	17. Waning Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skuld nearly kills a man and is present for the death of another. Sometimes, love isn't enough. Luxord holds back some key information and we see Xehanort starting to get a little...upset.

Skuld wakes to a boot to the side.

“Get up, you lazy bastard! Need all hands on deck!”

Not the worst way to be waking up, but some part of her rather she’d not be waking up at all. Oh well. Always another day. She rolls over onto her knees, with a squishing sound. Skuld freezes. What was that? 

She’s...covered head to toe in seaweed. Among other things, things she’d rather not think about right now. Judging by the response of the crewmen surrounding her, she looks like one of the dead crewing this ship.

Well, it appears Tia Dalma ( _ Calypso _ ) has kept her end of the deal in getting her to the  _ Flying Dutchman _ . Now, to find Sora, Donald, and Goofy, and get everyone out of this war zone. She rises to her feet, slimy and icky, almost slipping in her own slime. Walks tow-

 

“The other way! Did ya not see my pointing!?”

“Sorry sir!” she calls back, deepening her voice in the process. She turns to run the other way (she thinks). 

“I swear....some of these crew is blind as bats.” She hears the man mutter under his breath. Skuld shoves a fist into her mouth in order to stifle the laughter threatening to burst out of her. A slimy fist covered in disgusting seaweed. Ugh. That was a mistake.

She spits out little bits of weed as she carefully finds her way on deck through the howling storm. Thankfully the crew of this ship are too busy to take much notice of her, rushing to complete their duties. 

It is strange, to be surrounded by the dead, as this crew is. They don’t really have hearts anymore, just bits and pieces embedded in their trapped souls and will. Single notes of songs that cannot be completed. Makes it easier to listen for those who are more alive, such as Sora and his friends. 

Once again, she thanks the universe as a whole that she’s wearing boots, crunching her way across deck. Coral and rock stuff everywhere, she’s pretty sure. Bits of a ship that might even be alive, in a way that even she can’t tell. 

Best to find somewhere to wait for Sora to show up, sooner or later. 

 

At least, that was the plan before her ears (or is it her heart?) catch an echoy buzzing. The sound of a person without a heart. 

Someone’s watching. Someone who is not Davy Jones. 

“Hello?” She calls out, raising her voice above the storm. “Who’s there?”

“Hm. You’re certainly unexpected,” the source of the echoes muses loudly. “Who are you?”

Skuld shuffles her feet, turning her head so to better pinpoint where this stranger is standing. “I asked first.” 

“...What a childish answer.”

Skuld ignores the man (for that’s what it sounds like, at least). Well, his words at least, not his sound. She’s almost figured out where he i-

At least, until there’s a snap and he’s gone. Warped out of existence. 

Skuld doesn’t have enough time to figure out what that means, before he’s back again. Much, much closer. Almost right next to her closer. 

She swings her staff at him, but luckily for him, he’s not in her reach.

“Be careful where you swing that!” That voice...she knows it. Somehow.

 

“You’re...Even, right?”

A pause. She’s surprised him. Not sure why exactly, that’s his name, isn’t it?

“Vexen, now. And who might you be?”

Vexen...now she  _ knows  _ that name. Skuld never knew of Vexen very well, but she’s been around Demyx enough, seen him through the bad days, to know she wants to punch the scientist in the face. 

So she does.

His nose makes a very satisfying crunching noise under her fist. 

He doubles out with a yelp, probably holding his fingers up to his nose. “What was that for!?”

“Something you haven’t done yet and hopefully never will,” Skuld answers, shaking out her hand. “Why are you here?”

“What does it matter to you?” Vexen sneers. But he does answer her. “To find a black box, of some sorts. Apparently.”

“The Box?” she scoffs. “You’ve been sent on a wild-goose chase. Your Organization will never find that box, not while it’s under Luxu’s protection.” 

(“The X-Blade must never be forged.”

“But...what you’ve said, hasn’t Luxu been waiting for centuries? Waiting for you and the Foretellers? Now it’ll never happen?”

“If you prevent the forging, yep.”

She looks up into the darkness of that unfathomable hood. “You’re an ass.”

“Whoa, that’s a mean thing to say to the person who’s giving you a second chance.”)

Skuld shakes her head, grimacing. Rubbing at her skull like it’ll chase away these unfamiliar flashes. Who was she calling an ass? Who was she talking to? 

_ The X-Blade must never be forged.  _ The words buzz in her brain like bees. 

“Who is this Luxu?” Vexen asks. 

“If I tell you, that’s a box that can never be unopened,” Skuld warns him. “If I tell you, I’ll be painting a target on your back.” 

A choking sound escapes the Nobody, adding to the echoing going on inside of him. It takes a moment for Skuld to understand that he’s  _ laughing.  _ Almost. 

“A target painted on my back? You speak like that’s an experience I know nothing about, when it’s anything but!”

Skuld shakes her head. “Not like this.  _ Never  _ like this.” 

“Go on.”

Skuld rubs her chin. “Alright, but not here’ You’ll have to come with me.”

“Hm. I can accept that.”

Skuld nods, holding out her hand. “Let’s go then. I need to find Sora.”

“That boy,” Vexen mutters, “He’s always where you expect him to be, in the end.”

“Yes, but I need to get there first.” She wiggles her fingers. Cold fingers close around hers. Perfect. That voluntary touch on Vexen’s part is all she needs. 

Her heart reaches out, with her soul, her  _ essence _ , weaving tendrils into Vexen’s essence. Tying them together, until she deems it time to cut this connection. 

Vexen staggers back, wrenching his hand free. “What...what happened?”

“A connection. C’mon, let’s go.”

 

A cough. Not from Vexen, not from her. But someone new entirely. 

“I’m quite sorry to interrupt, but I cannot allow you take Vexen, no matter how irritating he may be.” Male, with an interesting accent. 

“Luxord!” Vexen manages to shout in the man’s direction. A Nobody, that echoes just like the others. 

Luxord pauses. He must be looking her over. Examining her. Somehow. Must be a bit difficult, through the rain and the sea-gunk that covers her. 

“You are....familiar. What is your name?”

Skuld’s mind itches. “Do I know you?” she asks back.

“...It does not seem so. Release Vexen back to me,” a sound, a slapping of boots across slick planks. The rain comes down harder, “and we can part peacefully.”

Skuld grits her teeth in the parody of a skull’s grin. “Sorry, I can’t do that.” Starlight comes to her fingers, after a few moments of pure focus. “Let me leave with him and I won’t have to kick your butt to Kingdom Hearts.”

“We are at an impasse, then.” A humming, the hum of magic in the air. A spell, or a magical artifact, charging up. Preparing to be used. “Pity. I had hoped to ask you about your partners in crime.” 

Her partners in crime? No, it can’t be...

“Who did you meet?” 

“Vexen first.”

“No.” That humming. She leaps back, just in time to avoid a blast of... _ something.  _ Certainly magic she’ll want to avoid, from here on out. 

“Clever. How do you manage, without your sight?”

“You’ll see.” Skuld allows Starlight to fade away. The man will be keen to keep her out of his range, so using her Keyblade and its transformations won’t be very effective.

She stretches out her hands, wiggles her fingers. “ _ Weave. _ ” 

Silken spider threads, woven out of her very soul, zip out to tag anything within reach. Including Vexen, who lets out a very loud, irritating yell. Lucky there’s weird coral and rocky formations everywhere, growing out of the ship, perfect for the threads to form a web. 

She concentrates and the silk obeys her will, wrapping around Vexen in a cocoon. Stuck to the ground, until one draws close enough to cut him free. Thankfully, it also muffles the Nobody’s upset noises. 

 

The rest of her spread out threads vibrate. Something coming through, multiple things heading towards her. 

Now,  _ Thunder.  _ Electric energy arcs along the silk, causing little explosions whenever they hit the strange humming attacks. Once she thinks she’s gotten all of them, she stops. 

“Interesting. However, you cannot hold your web up forever.” 

“You can’t stay forever,” Skuld counters. 

“So you seek to make this a test of attrition...” Luxord muses. He must be moving around over there, since his wave of attacks comes from a different direction entirely. Aiming for the Vexen-cocoon. 

Her web still manages to catch each and every one, and another Thunder-wave destroys them. 

Frankly, Luxord isn’t quite correct in calling this a test of attrition. Her magic reserves are fine. She’s done this for hours before. But this is rather instead a test of  _ time.  _ She can’t really afford to wait around too much longer, not when she still needs to catch up to Sora’s gang. (With her new prisoner, Vexen. Can’t forget him.) 

Time to  _ wrap  _ this up. So to speak. 

She pulls in her hands and with them, her web. Sudden movement towards her in the center, pulls in whatever’s trapped to her. 

“Ah!” Aha, looks like she caught a certain someone! Tugged in close enough that her ears can hear him once more. Perfect for aiming her final spell. Quickly, she disconnects a hand from the web, freeing it. 

She stretches out that same hand in his direction. 

“ **_DOOM_ ** ,” she intones solemnly.

SIX, the spell counts in her head, focused around her struggling target. Skuld tightens her web, fingers digging into the soul-thread. 

FIVE.

Twists the thread, spinning another cocoon with the motion. 

FOUR.

Adds her free hand once more to the web, to spin the cocoon tighter. Not that’ll matter, when her spell is complete.

THREE.

A sudden expansion of air, a snap and a pop. Her spell wibbles, and her magic is ended with a drain that leaves her feeling empty. Her threads suddenly fall loose, like they’ve been cut. The countdown vanishes from her mind.

He’s gone. Hm. Probably vanished into those Dark Corridors these people like to use so much. 

Skuld sighs. A snap of her fingers and the threads vanish, releasing little motes of soul into the stormy sky. Tiring, draining, now that she’s ended it. As the threads vanish, the cocoon they make up vanishes as well. Freeing a rather unhappy Nobody, from the sounds of it. 

 

“I could have  _ suffocated  _ in there!” he yells at her. 

Skuld pauses, screwing her face up in thought. “Could you? I mean, do Nobodies actually need to breath?”

“That’s  _ not the point _ . Do you wrap up every prisoner you take like that?”

“Only the ones that have their friends trying to take them back.”

“We’re not friends. At most, you could say we’re coworkers,” Vexen insists.

“Well,  _ someone  _ trying to take them back. There’s a half hour’s worth of air in there, I’m pretty sure.” Skuld tugs the heart-connection between her and Vexen, pulling him forward. 

He staggers. “Again, you did not explain what exactly happened there.” 

(“Some promises can be less easily broken than others, Weaver.”)

“Some promises can be less easily broken than others,” she answers. 

Under her feet, the ship trembles. The storm howls, seemingly growing stronger. The clashing of blades, somehow louder than the storm, far above. 

Something bad is about to happen, she can  _ feel  _ it. 

“Sora, I need to find him,” she breathes. 

If she listens...over there! A familiar heartless Davy Jones and her trio! She hurries across the slick deck, through the fighting between the undead and the living, dragging Vexen along in her wake. 

Thankfully, it appears the man has a shield or some other heavy device to protect himself, judging by the meaty whacks and yelps of pain she hears coming from his direction. Good, so she doesn’t have to worry about him. 

 

A scream, above the rest of the fighting and rain. Skuld freezes. That’s... _ Sora.  _ No. Nononono. 

She runs and she’s there. But there far too late.  

Sora’s there, with Donald and Goofy. The pirates she left behind, throwing herself over the side, they’re there too. But one...as she ‘watches,’ the last of his soul wisps into the beyond. Dead. Gone.

“Jack, can’t we save him?” Sora asks. 

“Part of the ship, part of the crew. The  _ Dutchman  _ must have a captain,” is the pirate’s only answer to Sora’s request. That failed, Sora turns to her next. 

“Skuld, you’re here! You have to help! You can help!” 

“I can’t-” she swallows. “There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.” The man, he’s...gone. Gone like so many others she seen and felt, her unable to do a thing to turn aside the cruel fate that claimed them. 

“Elizabeth, say good-bye,” Sparrow says to the woman weeping over the body, pulling her away screaming and crying her denial. 

Sora wails. A heart-wrenching sound full of misery. It tugs at her own heart. Checking her connection to Vexen, the man seems vaguely discomforted by the sight before him. But only slightly. “Hm, this was  _ not  _ the box we were looking for.”

“Shut up, Vexen,” she hisses. 

 

“Come along, Sora.” She catches Jack Sparrow saying quietly to the boy in question. “You have a ship, do you not?”

Away from what will happen next, away from the dead. The crew...the undead crew, they’ve surrounded them. Skuld, Vexen, and the body.

Skuld stays, even while the people she’s searched so long for leave. She’ll find them again. For now, something inside (her heart) tells her she should serve as witness to whatever happens next. Even as the ship turns onto its side, soon to be claimed by the sea its former owner loved so much. (Loved enough to cut out his own heart.)

“The  _ Dutchman _ must have a captain,” one of the crewmembers intones solemnly. A cutting, a hacking of a blade through dead flesh. 

“What is your name?” Another undead asks her.

Skuld sees no reason to deny him, not when she’s intruding on this sacred moment. “Skuld.”

“Skuld...” the dead man thinks out loud, “A Norn! A Norn, here to see Fate through.”

Skuld blinks. A Norn? What is that? She doesn’t ask, turning her attention back to...the man who is no longer dead?

No, he’s still dead. He’s merely...undead now. Heart woven back together into its body by the force of bindings coming from that chest. Bound to live, like every single one of the  _ Dutchman’s  _ crew. 

“Will...” the crewmember from before, the crewmember who she thinks cut into that body with blade.

“Father...” Will says back. 

Skuld tilts her head. They’re...related? Hm. What are the odds? 

“Curious,” Vexen breathes, from right next to her. 

Will struggles to his feet. “My friends, Elizabeth...they need me.”

“Then where to, Captain?”

“To stop the navy.” Will pauses. “...and who are these two? The blind woman...you’re familiar, but the other...?”

Before Skuld can say anything, the crewmember who asked her name before butts in. “Fate and Death, come together to see yar, Captain!”

Wait, what? Fate and Death? 

Vexen snorts. Skuld...elects not to say anything.    
“Hm...very well. But they will have to wait. There are others that need the  _ Dutchman  _ now.” 

“...how are you going to do that?”

 

* * *

 

 

Honestly, it’s cool that the  _ Dutchman  _ can go underwater like a big fish. But it’s a pain how Skuld has to weave her and Vexen a little air-bubble so they won’t end up drowning as a result. 

They still get there in the end. Rejoining with Sora who’s...holding a crab? A crab that feels like Calypso, that’s what the crab’s tiny tiny heart is telling her. 

“What’s with the crab?”

“My ship is gone,” Sora replies sadly. 

“Um, okay. Sad?” 

“This is ridiculous,” Vexen huffs, “How do you manage to get anything done?”

“Well, sheer willpower?” Skuld suggests. 

“Skuld, why do you have an Organization member with you?” Donald asks, not-so-calmly. As is common with the short-tempered duck. 

“Oh, him? He’s my prisoner, we should probably take him to the people in charge.” She shoves Vexen a little closer to Donald and Goofy. “Keep an eye on him, I want to talk to Sora.”

“Don’t leave me with the duck and the dog!”

“Too late.” Skuld skips over to Sora. 

Sora still feels sad, holding onto his struggling crab. Carefully, Skuld reaches over to place a hand on his shoulder.

“It’ll be alright, we’ll get a new ship.”

 

“Will’s back but he’s not back. They’re separated,” Sora says out of nowhere. “But I thought the point of love was that you couldn’t be separated no matter how far you are.”

Skuld swallows, her fingers curling on his shoulder.

(“I’ll be with you, Skuld, no matter what.”

“And I won’t ever leave you behind, Ephemer. Not in a million years.”)

“Sometimes...” Skuld chooses her words carefully. “Love isn’t enough. Sometimes, we lose the people we care about, no matter how much we love them.”

“Skuld...how can I...how can I keep going?” he weeps. “How can Elizabeth keep going, she loves him so much!”

Under her blindfold, Skuld closes her eyes. 

“...we do our best, Sora. Just the best we can.”

 

**Xtra: The Gambler of Fate**

Luxord’s lucky he caught that Doom spell with one of his own, before it killed him. But then, luck’s often an important part of any game. 

He examines the Doom-filled card carefully. It, surprisingly, does not take the form of a skeleton, or rather Death. Instead, a tower sits on its front, lighting striking it from the sky. 

The Tower.

Danger, a sudden crisis at hand, change like never before seen. A disaster to plans already laid. 

He smiles to himself, chuckling a bit as he flicks the card back into his deck. “I suppose you certainly are  _ that _ , mysterious time-traveler.”

For a time-traveler she is. Time warps around her, in a similar way it does around the majority of Xehanort’s vessels, gathered from across all time. Much like it did around Demyx’s Heartless and the individual who came to retrieve him. 

Foolish of him, not to pay attention to that strange feeling the first time. But he knows better now. Three time-travelers, outside of Xehanort’s purview. Could there possibly be more? How interesting, to see more pieces added to the board so late in the game. 

 

They’re certainly throwing the old man into a tizzy, these new pieces. And Xigbar (whoever he is) seems uncomfortable too, almost. If the man can ever be truly called that, with his irreverent manner.  

He carefully counts who’s left, standing on their rocky pedestals for a meeting that has yet to start. Waiting for the Master himself, of course. Himself, Xemnas, the young Xehanort, Xigbar, Marluxia, Larxene, Saix and his shadow...and poor Demyx, of course. Demyx, who if Luxord had a heart, he would be almost feeling sorry for. Demyx, who has had an uncomfortable amount of attention laid on him by Xehanort’s seconds. Turned to a true vessel, benched no longer. That’s what happens, Luxord supposes, when one of your enemies happens to be one of your vessel’s own Heartless. 

Anyway, back to counting. Along with Ansem and the Riku replica (who are on important missions that cannot be interrupted), that makes...twelve. Hm. They’re...short. And without Vexen, there are no more replicas to possibly fill things out. Oh,  _ Xehanort  _ won’t be pleased by this. 

And speak of the devil...he appears, on his column. Towering above all of the rest. 

“Luxord...where is Vexen?” Straight to business, he sees. Wonderful. 

“Unfortunately, we ran into a Keyblade wielder, a woman in purple, who wanted a prisoner. I managed to escape, while Vexen did not.”

“Unacceptable.” Luxord flinches. Slightly. But he finds comfort in the fact that the rest of the non-Xehanort vessels did as well. 

“Luxord, you will track Vexen and recover him. Xigbar, you will go with him.”

Luxord glances over at Xigbar, who wiggles his fingers at him in a wave. Great. 

 

“My wayward apprentice is still marked by the Sigil. Larxene and Marluxia, track him down and his ‘companions.’ Teach them what happens when you cross the Organization.” Xehanort continues. 

“What about your apprentice, what do we do about him?” Larxene manages to ask.

Xehanort  _ smiles _ . Luxord freezes like a mouse in the eyesight of a hawk, much like everyone else, at the sight. “Bring him to me and I will discipline him myself. Go now.” 

Luxord thanks his lucky stars that  _ he  _ won’t be at the end of that, though the unfortunate apprentice (Vanitas, wasn’t it?)  _ will be.  _

The two individuals then nod and take their leave, vanishing into Darkness. 

Xehanort turns to the rest. “As for our cause...fate has decreed our victory. But first, the vessels must be recollected. Worry not about the Light and return to your duties. You will be called for new ones, as the time comes.” He disappears, along with his three ‘selves’. Everyone else lingers only for a few seconds before leaving. 

Until Luxord is alone, in this deserted graveyard. Alone with Xigbar.

Luxord takes out The Tower once more, looking it over. “Fate,” he says to himself, “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

“Hey, come on, Luxord! We’ve got a scientist to catch.”

Luxord sighs. “Very well.”

They vanish, the pair, into the Dark.

Behind them, a single card flutters to the ground. Where it lands, face up. A girl pouring water into a cup, one foot on land, one foot in the water. The girl’s face is serene, eyes closed. She has black hair. 

Temperance.

Number XIV.


	18. Hareraiser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strelitzia has a more physical presence and Vanitas asks the question: is it self-harm if you're hurting your past self?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me, Xehanort is one of those scientists who traps a wild animal in a cage, starves it, generally stresses it out until it attacks him and then writes "this creature is naturally aggressive..." as well as that dude that goes "well, I do this Awful Bad thing so no one will ever do those Bad things ever again." So, frankly, the Worst.

The mansion in the woods has far too many unicorns on it. Gives him an unpleasant feeling in his stomach that would have definitely formed as an Unversed if he hadn’t lost that ability to do so by himself.

“Shit, that’s a lot of unicorns.”

His younger self squints at him, having taken off his helmet sometime in the middle of their trek to the stupid mansion. “...Yes.”    

(Aqua, with Ira’s mark on her clothes. A unicorn’s head.)

“Unicorns are the worst. Don’t trust them,” Vanitas says.

“...That’s stupid.”  

Vanitas shrugs, Strelitzia rolling along on his shoulder. “It’s the truth. Guess we should head up there, though.”

Only decent shelter around here, that’s for sure. Even with the stupid unicorns tainting it.

 

The gates, thankfully, are not locked. He pushes his way past, walks right up to the door, and doesn’t bother pausing before walking right inside.

It’s...big. Dusty. Old.

Lots of other words he can’t think of right at this moment. One of the side rooms has a couch, musty and ancient. It creaks under him alarmingly, when he sits on it, so he settles for putting his burden on it instead. He leans against the wall and waits.  

His younger self focuses on the sleeping girl with his usual intensity. Waiting. Until she wakes.

Strelitzia wakes slowly, eyelids fluttering. Like she’s been asleep for centuries. Which in a way, she has.

“Where’s Demyx?” is the first thing the girl asks, once she stands up carefully on her feet.

“He’s recovering. Took a lot out of him to carry your heart around like that.”

“Oh. I hope he’ll be alright.”

“He will,” Vanitas assures her, leaning back against the wall. He takes out one of his new books, flipping through to the front page to start reading.

He looks up, to see the two kids still standing there. Staring at him.

“What?” It’s like they need him to tell them what to d- wait. That’s exactly what they want. His younger self has no idea what to do in enclosed spaces if it doesn’t involve burning them down and Strelitzia is in a strange new world very different from the one she died in. Of course they want direction.

Shit.

No. He _hates_ being in charge. That’s what Skuld and Namine are for. But fine, looks like he’s the only adult here (literally).

With a heavy sigh, Vanitas snaps his book shut. “Okay, let’s check this place out.” He stomps up the stairs, followed by the pitter-patter of kid feet.

“Hm...a library. Wonder if there’s anything good in there.”

“Lots of art around here.”

“Shit...more unicorns.”

He throws open another door, only to blink at what he sees inside. A completely white room, with pictures on the wall...

Huh. Vanitas steps back, just a bit, to allow enough space for the kids to investigate for themselves.

Strelitzia walks around carefully, like if she steps too hard in the wrong place, the floor will come crashing down. His younger self moves with a confidence that he can take any foe that could come calling. They both make a beeline for the crayon drawings. Drawings of people, of places. Some he knows after a second glance, others he doesn’t.

They’re pretty, he guesses. He’s not really one for visual art.

“Who drew these?” Strelitzia asks, while his younger self is in the process of ripping a picture off the wall.  

“Namine drew these, I think.” Not that Namine drew very much anymore, now that Vanitas was thinking about it. Ajax still collected drawing supplies for her, he thinks, but Vanitas never recalled her ever using them.

“That’s Sora,” his past self says quietly, holding up a paper. A picture with a dark haired individual and blond one, holding hands, their backs to the viewer. “Is that Ventus?” He points to the blond.

Vanitas tilts his head, looking the image over, before shaking his head. “No, that’s...Roxas, I think. The Nobody.”

“That’s Roxas?” His younger self lifts his lip up in a sneer. “He’s like Ventus, not like Sora. A Nobody looks like its original, not someone else entirely.”

“Weird, but I don’t ever think we figured it out,” Vanitas agrees, “The Nobodies...went missing. Dead, probably. I never got a chance to know of them, really.”

Except for Namine, of course. But that was different. It had to be.

“How do you know Ventus?” Strelitzia pips up, looking over at Vanitas’ past self curiously. “We were friends before...but how do you know him _now_?”

“We were friends?” The kid looks a little...uncomfortable at that revelation, tilting his head back.

“I used to be a part of Ventus,” Vanitas cuts in to explain, since for some reason it seems his past self isn’t going to. “I am the Darkness that was cut out of him. Both of us are, since I’m his future.” He jerks a thumb at the kid.

“If you’re Ventus’ Darkness...what happened to the rest of Ventus?”

“Here.”

“Sleeping.”

They both speak at the same time, his younger self spitting out the later answer with unexpected venom. They glance at each other briefly, before quickly looking away again.

Strelitzia frowns. “Wait, what?”

“Future stuff,” Vanitas clarifies, waving a hand at his chest, “I have bits and pieces of him inside of me.”

“Well, now Venty-Wenty is _sleeping,_ ” the kid grumbles. He starts at his older self’s sudden laugh.

“ _Venty-Wenty_? That’s pretty good, actually. Gotta use that now!”

Kid puffs up his chest ever so slightly in response, even as he turns his attention back to the picture in his hands.

Vanitas settles onto the floor, watching the two rifle through the pictures some more. Shrugging, he pulls out his book again and starts the long hard work of puzzling through some of the longer words in the middle of some romance plot.

If they need him...well, he’s here. Ready to take on the whole world and then some.

 

“my magic feels strange.”

He looks up from his book. “What was that?”

“Um...my magic feels strange,” she repeats, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Okay. Do you want to test it?”

She nibbles at her lip, before nodding.

“Okay, hit me.”

Green eyes stare at him.

“Well?” He puts his book away, staring back.

“...what if I hurt you?”

“Hurt me?” Vanitas shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that, I can cast a Cure if anything goes wrong. It’s best to try it now, before something goes wrong anyway.”

“Alright.” She closes her eyes, wraps her fingers together. Focusing. His younger self wanders over, looking back and forth between the two of them. Waiting to see what happens next.

At first, Vanitas doesn’t feel anything. And then the next moment, he does. A squeezing of his fragile heart, a pressure on his lungs.

TEN.

He frowns. Wait, what?  
NINE.

Ooooh. He knows what this is.

EIGHT.

Vanitas flares his soul, his _focus_ through his delicate heart. Breaking the chain of fate she’s laid on him.

SNAP. Green eyes snap open and their owner gasps for breath. “What was that?”

 

“You can cast Doom.” Whoa. Now that was unexpected.

Strelitzia looks puzzled. “Doom? What’s that?”

“Killing magic,” Vantias says simply.

His younger self, for some reason, scoots a few inches away from Strelitzia.

“Killing magic that serves as a countdown for the enemy,” Vanitas elaborates.

Strelitzia screws up her face. “What? If I can do that, why didn’t the Fo- anyone tell me?”

“Well, it’s hard to say you’re the good guy when you’re insta-killing people,” Vanitas points out, “Also, Keyblade wielders don’t tend to practice it cuz Doom doesn’t kill Heartless.”

“Why not?” his younger self asks.

“Because Heartless are already Doomed,” singsongs another voice from the shadows. All three Keyblade wielders respond instantly to that, leaping onto their feet. Vanitas draws Last Requiem to point into said shadows.

Only to relax his stance once he sees familiar blond hair. “Demyx. Light, you can’t scare me like that.”

“You’re only jelly cuz you’re terrible at sneaking up on people,” the Heartless informs him, shaping himself into existence from the Dark.

“Whoa, you’ve caught me, totally jelly,” Vanitas says flatly, vanishing his Keyblade. “Nothing to do with learned behavior from years of getting ambushed left and right.”

Demyx pouts. “You have a point... Fine, I’m sorry.”

“Dick,” Vanitas snorts, turning back to the kids.

“Hey, you can’t call me that if I’ve apologized!”

“I can call you whatever I want.”

“Only villains do that.”

Vanitas pokes himself in the chest with a thumb. “Heart of Darkness.”

Demyx huffs. “You use that as an excuse for everything.”  

 

“Is there any other new magic I can do now?” Strelitzia asks, probably trying to get them back on topic.

Vanitas shrugs. “Won’t know until you try. What about your Keyblade?”

Strelitzia looks down at that, hair covering her eyes. “I can’t summon it,” she says quietly.

Vanitas blinks. “Wait, what?”

“Great, she’s weak too.” His younger self scoffs.

Strelitzia turns bright red at that, lowering her face even more.

“Shut up. She’s not weak, she’s just...recovering.” Vanitas scratches at a cut on his face. “...Um. Can you summon anything else?”

“Just these.” She holds out her palms. From the air forms two hand-scythes. The blades are bright orange, striped with the same deep blue that makes up their hilts.

“Scythes?”

“They’re sickles,” she corrects him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, that’s...interesting?” Vanitas looks the weapons over once more. “Huh. Well, those will help out, for now. That’s good.”

“That’s better than me, at any rate,” Demyx chimes in. “I can’t summon any weapons anymore.”

“See, better than Demyx.”

“Like that’s hard,” his younger self mutters.

Demyx places a hand over his chest. “Minitas, stop, you’re hurting my feelings!”

“Minitas?” Both Vanitas and his younger self say at the same time.

Demyx tilts his hand from one side to the other. “Smaller than usual Vanitas, mini Vanitas, Minitas?”

“What’d you mean, ‘smaller than usual’?”  Vanitas glares at Demyx.

“Well, you do have to admit, you are pretty short. Shortest in our little gang of time-travelers.”

“Shut up,” Vanitas says, lacking any sort of solid rebuttal to that statement.

Demyx leans over to Strelitzia to stage-whisper, “He’s just mad cuz it’s _true_.”

Strelitzia lifts her head, so the three can see her face once more. She’s smiling, just a bit. A tiny smile, but still a smile.

 

Demyx snaps his fingers. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Here.” He digs through his pockets to hand Strelitzia...a tiny booklet?

A booklet with a flower on the cover, from what Vanitas can see of it, before she hugs it to her chest. “Thank you!”

He bows dramatically. “Glad I could help.” Demyx glances over at Vanitas’s younger self, yellow eyes uncertain. “Um, do you want anything?”

“What would I want a _book_ for?” the kid sneers.

“Well, it doesn’t _have_ to be a book.”

“That’s not what you told me,” Vanitas can’t help but cut in, pulling out his own book to wave in Demyx’s face.

“I didn’t think you’d _actually_ read them!” Demyx squawks, waving his arms around frantically. “It was a joke!”

“Joke’s on you, dork, I read all of them!”

“Why are you two such freaks?” his younger self says, looking at the two of them with...not disgust, but confusion. Pure confusion.

Well, let’s see...they’re ‘fighting’ but not saying anything truly mean or attacking each other with spells or weapons. Yeah, he could see how the kid’s confused.

“We’re...friends. Really good friends. Sometimes it’s fun to fight, but not really fight,” Vanitas attempts to explain. By the growing puzzlement on the kid’s face, kid’s not getting it.

“I watch his back and he watches mine,” Demyx says simply. His younger self nods at that, yet the confusion is still there.

It’s a confusion that will persist for years upon years to come, Vanitas knows. A confusion that still lingers in himself, asking _why do they care, why do they stay, when I do nothing for them_.

Vanitas can’t explain it because he still doesn’t understand it himself. Why. He’s pretty sure he never will, and honestly, he’s alright with that. As long as his past self doesn’t start stabbing Demyx for some perceived insult or another.

Because Demyx is _his_ , like how the others are _his_ , and nothing takes _his stuff._

“So, what’d you want?” Demyx tries.

No answer. Except for a growling sound that suddenly emits from the kid. The sound of hunger.

His younger self’s face flushes, and a few Unversed pop out. Strelitzia jumps, just a little, in response to the monsters suddenly appearing in the room, but she doesn’t run. That’s the important part. She doesn’t run.

“Food? I can do that.” Demyx nods, before disappearing back into shadow like he does at times.

Both his younger self’s and Strelitzia’s eyes widen at that. As for Vanitas, he just sighs and scratches at his scars. He jerks his head at the Unversed currently floating and crawling about the room. “Take care of that, before I do.”

His younger self does so, swiping viciously at the Unversed with his Keyblade. (He always did. Don’t you remember, when you once had to do the same?) Strelitzia only watches the whole endeavor, with no small amount of confusion.

To distract her, Vantias calls over, “Hey, what other magic can you do? Mind showing me?”

“Alright,” Strelitzia gives him a small nod, walking over once she tucks her booklet away in whatever place her weapons went. “First I can...”

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t believe you,” Vanitas says flatly. He gestures with his plastic fork at his cartoon full of pasta. “A rat, making this food? You have to be kidding me!”

“It’s real, I swear,” Demyx insists, “Little bluish rat, name of Remy, makes every dish at the bistro!”

“Weird shit,” Vanitas grumbles, bending over to shovel more noodles into his mouth.

“We’ve seen weirder,” the Heartless reminds him.

“Not that weird.”

“Like an entire pocket reality based on peoples’ desires and a talking cat-doll wasn’t that weird?”

To that, Vanitas has to concede. “I guess that’s true. Weird place, the Metaverse.” He turns to Strelitzia. “Hand over the rolls.”

She does so, before giving her meal of veggies her full attention once more. Ratatouille, Vanitas thinks it’s called? Apparently it’s good enough that she hasn’t said one word the entire time, just focused on eating it with a single-minded hunger.

His past self, on the other hand, has mostly been playing with his food. Ate a little at the start, but now...just stabbing at the same carrot with his fork.

“Hey, do you want noodles instead?” Vanitas offers his carton.

Yellow eyes glare at him murderously. “ _No.”_

Vanitas turns back to his meal, ready to dig in once more, when he catches a flicker of movement. He looks up, just in time to see his younger self throw his meal all over the floor. His mask appears, covering his young face. Summons Void Gear.

 

His younger self throws himself at Vanitas, ready to attack. Not that Vanitas can say he’s surprised by this turn of events. Honestly, it’s only a surprise that the attack hadn’t happened _sooner._

Missing Ache is there to meet the coming Keyblade, a shimmer of nearly invisible glass. A twist of his wrist, paired with a little leverage, and he smashes his past self into the floor. Kicks him in the gut, whacks him in the head. Keeps him there on the ground, Keyblade held to his throat. Close enough to cut.

“Are you going to keep messing around?” Vanitas summons Last Requiem in his right hand, to tap the Keyblade’s point against the ground by his younger self’s head. For a moment, he considers breaking that dark glass, to serve his point. But he doesn’t.

“We’re not doing anything against Xehanort,” his younger self spits in response. “We’re wasting time!”

“We’re building our strength,” the elder hisses back, “Haven’t you heard of that? You. Will. Wait.”

Vanitas allows Missing Ache to fade away, and looks up. Strelitzia looks...completely shocked. Scared, almost. Something about that emotion makes his heart ache, where once he would have glorified in it. Demyx watches, eyes too big for his face. Physically too big.  

Vanitas turns off to the side, allowing his younger self to carefully pick himself back up.

 

Vanitas then looks away, rubbing at his forehead. “Get out. All of you.”

The pitter-patter of small feet and a closing door alerts him to the fact that they’ve left. Vanitas looks up and...Demyx is still there. Looking at him curiously with those bright yellow eyes. Not leaving.

“Vanitas, what the hell was that about?” Demyx rises to his feet, folding his arms over his chest.  

“Look, he wasn’t going to listen to me any other way.” Vanitas rubs his fingers against Last Requiem’s hilt. “Xehanort trained him exclusively for four years. We’ve only been around him for maybe a day at most? That’s nowhere enough time to overcome Xehanot’s conditioning. If I don’t beat him, he’ll go back to the Organization and none of us wants _that._ ”

Vantias paces back and forth, allowing Last Requiem to disappear.

“It’s my nature, to turn against those who don’t prove their strength. To destroy.”

“...Huh. That sounds like something Xemnas would say.”

Vanitas looks over at Demyx. “What?”

“You know, blah blah Kingdom Hearts and stuff about the nature of Nobodies.” Demyx waves a hand and uses the other to rub at his scarred cheek. “I think he said things about how Nobodies couldn’t change. That we were stuck without hearts forever, unless we made our own Kingdom Hearts.”

“But he was wrong,” Vanitas points out, “Didn’t you learn later that Nobodies could regrow their hearts? Could change?”

Demyx points at him triumphantly. “Exactly! Which makes Xehanort wrong too!”

“Wait, how did Xehanort become relevant?” Vanitas frowns, pausing in his pacing.

“Well, Xemnas was Xehanort’s Nobody and he was wrong about Nobodies, so Xehanort must be wrong about you. He was the one who told you that, right?” Demyx walks a little closer, until he’s only a foot away from Vanitas. He lowers the volume of his voice to that of a whisper. “That you were a monster.”

“But I am! Don’t you get it!” Vanitas throws his hands up in frustration, almost hitting Demyx in the face in the process. “I wouldn’t exist without Xehanort making me! And he made me to destroy, to forge the X-Blade!”

Demyx jerks back, out of the reach of Vanitas’ waving arms. From a safe distance, he frowns. “But we’re fighting against Xehanort, not _for_ him.”

“That doesn’t make a difference, Demyx. Not to Xehanort. He always expected me to turn against him and I did, he just showed me how weak I was without him.” Vanitas tugs at his hair, tugs until he pulls out a small bloody chunk of it. He hisses, “I _still_ am that person. Still _weak_.”

Silence. Then, Demyx speaks once more, his back to Vanitas.

“If you’re weak, then I am too. Lazy and useless.”

“That’s not true,” Vanitas scoffs, “Lazy, yeah. Doesn’t mean you’re useless or it’s bad to be lazy. You’re _strong_.”

“If that’s not true...” Demyx turns around to jab a finger into Vanitas’ chest. “Then believe me when I say you’re not weak, not a monster! Or if you can’t believe me, then don’t take it out on the kid you used to be!”

“Why do you care? Didn’t you do worst in the Organization?” Vanitas regrets those words almost as soon as they escape his mouth. Demyx looks away, pulling at his sleeves.

“...Yeah,” the former Nobody murmurs, “The Organization was super messed up, thinking about it. Treating people that way, treating kids that way...it was wrong and I did it too like everyone else did. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t wrong.”

Vanitas bites his tongue. Waiting.

“So... Don’t hurt him anymore. Don’t hurt yourself anymore.”

Vanitas wants to shake his head, ignore Demyx’s request. But looking into those regretful yellow eyes...he can’t.

He nods, once. “I’ll try.”

“I’ll take it.” Demyx smiles weakly.

 

* * *

 

 

In this new life of hers, so much has changed from before. Strelitzia never thought that a Heartless would end up saving her, or someone devoted to the Dark.

Darkness was bad, Darkness would destroy everything. And it had.

Yet...they had used the Dark to save her, with the Light. Did that mean Dark wasn’t too bad, as long as there was some Light too?

She...doesn’t know. She wouldn’t have expected it. Yet she hadn’t expected to be backstabbed in a dark room either.

She follows the smaller, younger Vanitas out into the hall. Before, it was difficult to believe that he and the older one that saved her were the same person. Now, seeing the rage in those mismatched eyes and the casual violence...she could see it.

 

Vanitas pounds his fist against the wall, leaving a dent. His unusual Dark Keyblade disappears in a flurry of shadows, as he lifts his other fist to punch at the wall as well.

His shadow...Strelitzia watches, eyes wide, as it _crawls_ across the floor. Moving in ways its owner is currently not.

It stretches itself out into the shape of...little rabbits. Little blue rabbits. More of the creatures that had appeared from nowhere earlier. Well, now that she’s thinking about it, they _hadn’t_ appeared from nowhere, now had they? They had come from Vanitas.

“What are those?”

Vanitas jumps. He turns his masked face towards her and snarls, “None of your business!”

“If they might attack me, I think I should know.” Right after she says those words, she bites her lip. Oh no, was she too forward? Too bold saying that?

Vanitas...stares at her. She thinks. It’s difficult to tell, with that full-face mask hiding his facial expressions from her. Nerve-wracking.

“They’re Unversed,” he finally says, “My...emotions.”

“Your emotions?” Strelitzia nibbles at her lower lip, looking the little rabbits over. Most of them have wandered off, but a few remain. Glaring at her. “Oh.”

“Leave me alone,” he hisses, before stalking off. She hurries along behind him. Not too far, but not too close either. Considering what to ask next.

“Why do you have them and the other Vanitas doesn’t?”

At first she doesn’t think he’s going to answer. But then...

“...he’s complete. I’m not.” He pauses. “Not yet. But I will be.”

“Complete...you’re only part of a person then?”

“Part of Ventus.” Vanitas turns and punches the wall _right by her head_. She freezes. “Leave. Me. Alone.” He stomps off, hissing like an angry stray cat.

Strelitzia...stays there. Tracing the new dent in the wall. Part of Ventus...what happened to the rest of him? Was it lonely, to be like that, surrounded by people not cut like you were? It seems that way, she thinks.

 

Reminds her of her first meeting with the Foreteller of her Union, Master Ava.

(The Foreteller carefully tends to the deep scratches some stray cat had given Strelitzia, asking her, “What happened?”

“A cat hurt me. But I don’t know why,” she sobs out, “I was only trying to help.”

Master Ava looks her up and down, eyes unreadable behind her fox mask. “It probably didn’t understand you were trying to help it. Sometimes animals will hurt people who help them.”

“But why?”

“Because they’re too scared and hurt to see you’re trying to help. But you should help anyway,” the Master says firmly. She rises from her seat. “I’m glad you tried to help that cat. You did a good thing, Strelitzia.”

The Guild Master knew her _name_! Strelitzia sits there, rubbing at her newly healed hand.

Shortly after, she had been extended an invitation to become a Dandelion. And the rest...well, the rest was history.)

Vanitas...was hurt. To help him met he might hurt her. Strelitzia’s eyes harden, before giving a curt nod to herself. She draws her fingers back from the dent. But she would try anyway. If the older Vanitas could be kind and helpful, then this younger one definitely could, with some help.

It was the least she could do.

 

* * *

 

 

They really should do something about Xehanort soon, Vanitas thinks. But not yet. Not when it’s now currently nighttime, even though the sun hasn’t set (?).

He finds his younger self huddled in the corner of Namine’s old room. Strelitzia sits a few feet away. When he enters the room, she looks up at him. “Shh, he’s sleeping.”

“Yeah, I know,” he whispers. He looks the two over. “Need blankets or something?”

Strelitzia’s eyes widen and she nods frantically. “Yes please! Lots of them.”

“I’ll try and find some.” Carefully, he walks out of the room, down the dusty halls. There probably won’t be any blankets around here, but maybe Demyx will have an idea...?

 

In the end, he only finds four. Four to dump on top of both his past self and now-sleeping Strelitzia. He finds a corner of his own, in that same room, to settle down to watch.

Ready for anything.

Demyx slides in, silent and deadly (heh). Settling over by the window. “I’ll keep watch, since I don’t sleep,” the Heartless offers.

“Wake me up if there’s anything,” Vanitas says, resting against the wall. He’ll just rest his eyes, just for a minute...

 

When he wakes, the lighting is the same as ever. The two kids are up, and over by the window. He yawns, and said kids jump.

“See anything interesting?” He slowly rises to his feet. Where’s Demyx? Not in this room, but where?

“I think they’ve found us,” Strelitzia whispers, standing on her tippy-toes.

His younger self shoves her. “Shut up, they haven’t yet.”

“What?” Vanitas wanders over to the window himself.

There’s...people. Which in of itself is not a problem. The problem is that the people are wearing familiar-looking coats. One’s blond with a beard and the other’s dark-skinned with long white hair.

_Vessels._

Shit. They stayed in one place for too long. The Organization’s come for them. “Demyx, where are you!?” he loud-whispers, still looking out of the window through the pale curtains.

“Here.”

Vanitas nearly punches him in the face. Only a quick duck saves Demyx from the hit. “Don’t _do that_!”

“Ooooh, that’s Ansem, the Heartless dude,” Demyx hums.

“And the other?”

“Also Ansem.”

Vanitas blinks. All of them do. “What?”

“Ansem the Wise,” Demyx clarifies, like that means anything to Vanitas. “The guy with the science and from Radiant Garden.”

“Is that good or bad?” Vanitas asks, pulling the curtain a little bit closer to the window.

“Um...I dunno. Bad for Ansem the Wise Guy.” Demyx tugs at Vanitas’ shirt. “We should just leave. Or stay upstairs and hope they don’t come up.”

“There are some kids,” his younger self speaks up, tapping at the glass.

“Show me,” Vanitas demands, sweeping his eyes once more over the scene. And yep, there they are. Three dumb kids, peering around the gate at the two Ansems.

“We should do something,” Strelitzia says frantically, now tapping at the glass too.

Vanitas sighs. “Dumb kids. Guess we should. Would piss off Xehanort for sure.” He turns to Demyx. “With me?”

Demyx shrugs. “Okay, didn’t really want a rematch, but I can deal.”

“Good.” Vanitas heaves out another breath, reaching up to tap his pauldron. His armor encloses his body once more, helmet covering his face. He jerks his head at Strelitzia. “Get on my back.” He considers. “Both of you,” he reluctantly add.

His younger self fervently shakes his head. “I’ll get down by myself!”

Strelitzia grabs on, digging her fingers in the crevices to hold on.

“Here we go, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

Well, Pence isn’t exactly sure about who these people are, but one of them knows about Roxas. And the other guy doesn’t seem very friendly. All he needs to know to start causing a distraction.

“Hey, I’m looking for something! Think you could help me out?”

“No no no!” The other guy, with white hair, waves his hands in shooing motion. Completely distracted by Pence. Ready for both Hayner and Olette to do their parts of the plan.

“Hey, loser!” Hayner shouts, throwing himself in a full body kick at the other guy’s head. Olette quickly runs forward to get the old man.

Pence grins, only for the grin to quickly fall as some freaky bodyguard comes out of the other dude’s shadow to throw Hayner against the wall. The other dude turns towards Olette, intent on probably doing something bad.

 

That’s when the window, with the ghost in it, breaks.

Glass scatters through the air as a red and black armored figure throws itself through it Faintly, Pence notes there’s someone wearing a black coat, the same kind of black coat as old man and other dude, on their back. But he’s mostly distracted by the armor.

Whoever it is lands easily right in front of other dude, between him and Olette.

Behind him, Hayner yelps. A quick glance in that direction reveals his friend plucked from the air by a bunch of dark tentacles. Dark tentacles coming from yet another black-coated person, a guy with a blond mullet.

There’s...a lot going on. Pence isn’t exactly sure what, but he’s sure that these new people...they’re on their side against other dude.

The helmeted figure extends a gloved hand.

“Come with me if you want to live.”


	19. Grunge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demyx fights Ansem, talks to himself, and gains a new Confidant. Strelitzia does her best. And the Dark Squad gains some new members.

“Time to make like a tree and get out of here!” 

To make the scene a little clearer, it’s Demyx shouting that phrase. While keeping a strangely aggressive dirty blond kid suspended mid-air, thanks to dark tentacles extending from Demyx’s feet.  

An armored helm gives a quick nod in his direction, before beckoning at both kids and old man with two gloved fingers. Ansem the Wise Guy seems confused, but thankfully the girl holding onto his arm is much smarter and tugs him over to said armored figure.

Vanitas, of course. Who else would it be?

Demyx tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. Is that...yeah, there’s a small cloaked figure clutching to Vanitas’ back like a demented koala. Strelitzia, since there’s no way in void Minitas would consent to that course of action.

 

“You!” Ansem (the Heartless one) takes a step towards Demyx, arms outstretched in mimicry of a demeted crow spreading its wings. His Guardian mimics the stance, floating a little closer to Demyx.  

“Me,” Demyx agrees, poking his thumb at his chest. 

“Who are you guys!?” Floating kid contributes. Demyx should probably put him down. 

“Yeah, you should!” Oops, looks like he said that out loud. The tentacles carefully lower the kid back onto his feet, by Vanitas’ group, before curling up back into nonexistence. 

“Shoo!” Demyx flaps his hands at the people. 

Vanitas inclines his head once more before turning to run. Run into the woods, Strelitzia flopping on his back and the new people following after. 

About that point, Minitas steps out of a shadow of his own. Looks like he corridored himself down. A bit late, though. 

“Where is everybody!?” The kid throws his hands up in frustration. 

Ansem narrows his eyes. “What are you doing here, Apprentice of my Self?”

Vanitas’ face is covered, but that’s no help against two Heartless who can see through the deepest of Darks. The kid _pales_. Instantly. Steps backwards away from his ‘Master’s’ Heartless. 

Now, Minitas isn’t very nice. But Vanitas isn’t very nice either, _was_ Minitas at some point in the past, and besides that point? No one, _especially_ a kid, deserves to be at the hands of a Master who taught them they were abominations, monsters, that _had no right to live._  

(Demyx might be slightly bitter about his treatment in Organization XIII. _Slightly_.)

 

“Vanitas.” Kid pauses to _stare_. Demyx waves a hand at the woods. “They went there. I’ll hold him back.” 

Minitas’ shoulders tighten. Demyx can almost see the mental debate, the desire to snap, “I don’t listen to losers” at him. But Minitas surprises him. Kid merely nods back and races into the woods himself, hot on his older self’s trail.  

The Guardian reaches out, about to grasp him as it did to Demyx before. But now Demyx is wise to its tricks and is swift to raise a barrier of himself between the Guardian’s hands and Minitas’ retreating back. 

Ansem frowns and snaps his fingers. Six Neoshadows crawl out of the space in-between and by unspoken unison, run into the woods. Chasing the Dark Squad, of course. 

Between Vanitas and Minitas (and Strelitzia’s magic), they’ll be able to take care of those enemies no problem. Demyx only needs to keep their leader back. 

 

Speaking of...the Guardian swipes at Demyx. Again. 

Cuts through the air with pure Dark, driving the strange construct back. Like seriously, what is with that thing? It’s not pure Ansem, too reactive for that. But it’s more than a simple Heartless too. 

Most creative thing Ansem’s done with his powers as a Heartless honestly.

Demyx shakes his head. “Do you know what your problem is?”

Ansem’s eyes glow brighter, still angrily glaring off at the direction the rest of the Dark Squad and Neoshadow followers disappeared off to. “Enlighten me,” the Heartless hisses out.  

 

Demyx clucks his tongue. “The problem is that you’re lazy.”

Ansem raises an eyebrow. “And you of all people are calling me this?”

“Oh, so you know my reputation! That’s good, cuz that’s exactly what qualifies me to call you that!” Demyx claps his gloved hands together. He slides a little closer to Ansem, shadows reaching out from his feet like starfish arms.  

Closer but not too close. Got to avoid sudden large Heartless minions reaching out to grab at him, after all. 

“You see, Heartless don’t really have to do much. Just steal the hearts of people, hearts of worlds. You know. Simple stuff.” Demyx paces around his fellow Heartless in a wide circle. 

“Your point?” Ansem crosses his arms over his chest, rising into the air. Running out of patience, clearly. 

“My point is this: you haven’t tried anything _new_.” 

Demyx grins, yellow eyes flashing, surrounding shadows growing ever deeper and darker. 

“I’ll show you.” 

He closes his eyes, for a brief second, to _reach._ Deep inside, for the power he knows is there. 

 

* * *

 

 

Closing his eyes, reaching brings him...somewhere else. 

A Dark place, with no floors, no walls, nothing to make it solid and real. In the center of that place is a young man with silver-blue hair. Reading through a book, wearing the same black coat as Demyx himself. 

Fairly familiar to Demyx, actually. 

 

“Zexion?!” Demyx gapes. “How are you here?”

Zexion glances up from the open book in his hands, sharp eyes taking Demyx in. 

“I’m not actually here. I’m a figment of your own mind, created to make sense of the Darkness, thanks to that humanity you cling to,” he says, closing the book. “Something you never knew about.” 

Demyx blinks. “But if you’re me...then I do know that?”

Zexion nods. “See, you understand quite well for an idiot.” 

Demyx huffs, wrapping his arms around himself in response. “That’s mean of you.”

“That’s mean of _yourself_ , you mean,” Zexion corrects, waving a gloved hand in dismissal. “I’m part of you now, remember?”

“...Confusing.” 

“Very. But quite simple, if you bothered to think about any of this.” 

Demyx blinks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t like me.” 

Zexion sighs. “And here we go again,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “Enough of this. You’re here for a reason, Number Nine.” 

“Yeah, I was fighting Ansem...? Xehanort’s Heartless, I guess. Why am I here instead of there?” Demyx looks around at his surroundings. It’s dark, or rather Dark. Nothing to see. Just him and Zexion, standing there in the Dark. 

“You’re reaching for power to fight him. Power that you cut yourself off of, remember?” Zexion smiles coldly. “I’m merely the gatekeeper to that power.”  

“Okay, if that’s the case...hand it over!” Demyx makes grabby motion with his hands. “I can’t let him snatch all of us up for Xehanort!” 

 

Zexion taps his fingers against the book in his hands. “No.”

“What? But if you’re me...” Demyx slides closer to Zexion. Almost close enough to touch. 

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Zexion vanishes, only to reappear several feet away. Once more out of reach. “Don’t you remember why you locked it away in the first place, idiot?”

Zexion disappears again, only to shove the book he’s been paging through into Demyx’s hands. 

The book Demyx’s now holding has an outline of a gold keyhole on the cover. The lettering reads _Radiant Garden_ quite clearly, gleaming in the darkness. Demyx almost drops the book like a hot potato in his desperate attempt to shove it back into Zexion’s hands. 

“I don’t need that!” he yells, retreating from both book and Zexion. 

Zexion sighs, taking the book back and flipping it open once more. “You’ll have to admit what you did eventually, Number Nine.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Demyx insists. “It’ll never happen again. It _can’t_ happen again.” 

“Yet, the possibility still exists. As long as _you_ exist.” 

“Shut up Zexion, what do you know?” Demyx glares. 

“I’m not Zexion,” he replies. Shutting Demyx up. 

The ‘Zexion’ paces back and forth. 

“I’m not Zexion.” he repeats, “You’re not Demyx. We’re something new. Heart fragments of those two smashed together in the Dark.” Zexion’s eyes glow gold. “ _We’re_ Heartless. The sooner you admit that, the sooner I can give you what you want.” 

“Well, I don’t want it anymore.” Demyx turns his back on Zexion, folding his arms over his chest. He walks off into the Dark. “I’ll do it without you.”

“You’ll come back!” Zexion calls after him. “We both know that!”

“Yeah, but that’s later! Not today!” Demyx yells back, before vanishing entirely. 

Leaving Zexion alone in the Dark, holding the book called _Radiant Garden._

“Of course,” the figment says out loud. “Of course that’s what he would say.” 

“Did you expect anything else?” speaks another new voice.

Yellow eyes widen. “You’re here? Well, of course you are.” 

“Of course I am,” the voice agrees, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

* * *

 

 

Demyx opens his eyes. Nothing’s changed, of course. It’s all in his head, what happened.

No more power...that’s fine. Demyx hates having to think his way through fights and thinking in general, but he bets Ansem hates it even more. 

“You were showing me....?”

Demyx ignores him, rubbing his gloves together. Gathering the energy of more familiar magic to him, than Darkness. Enough to create a little water globe, to throw in the opposing Heartless’ face. 

He flings himself forward as well, to follow that water, dark tendrils creeping along the ground in attempts to pull Ansem into it. 

They’re fighting, chasing each other’s shadows and grasping for more. Tearing holes into each other and just as quickly filling said holes back again. 

A test of willpower.

Demyx will lose, like he did the first time. He’s simply not old enough, experienced enough. And Ansem has _back-up,_ his nasty minion swiping through Demyx time and time again. 

Time to tilt the odds...in _his_ favor. 

 

Digs in deep, reaches for the heart in the Dark. The one that Ansem keeps captive, deep inside. Because he’s right about Ansem. No way the dude would be able to make something like the Guardian by himself. No, something like that, so fluid and response requires more than one heart. 

Maybe _this_ heart, the heart Demyx found in his desperate struggle to keep Strelitzia from Ansem’s greedy hunger. 

(Oh, what _beast_ Ansem would have made of Strelitzia’s heart. It’s too terrible to think of. So he won’t.)

He’s no Namine, not nearly so skilled to manipulate the connections of hearts like puppets on strings. Snapping a connection? Something as simple as that needs no skill at all.

Only strength. Desire. _Will_. 

Demyx grins and the connection _snaps._

 

The Guardian pauses mid-attack. Ansem staggers back, nearly falling from the air as he clutches at his chest. “What did you _do!?”_

The Guardian shakes and shivers, fuzzing in and out of reality. A broken shadow. A shredded connection with one end flying around loose. With the same mental fingers he used to break that connection in the first place, Demyx reaches out. Grabs. 

The Guardian, with a broken howl, held by its strapped mouth, disappears. Ansem _does_ fall from the air this time, hitting the ground with a loud curse. 

 

Demyx pays no mind to his enemy’s literal fall from grace. Instead he admires at the physical manifestation of this newly gained connection, holding it up to the light. Sunlight gleams through orange glass, a strange star shining in Demyx’s gloved hands. 

“Huh. Looks familiar. Wonder what it’s called...” Demyx muses out loud, before shrugging. “Oh well. Maybe Vanitas knows.” 

He shoves the glass star into his pockets, looking around for his enemy. His now disappeared enemy. “Whoa, I guess he really is nothing without his Guardian after all. Now, for Vanitas...”

The Heartless disappears into the shadows of the World, seeking out the person in question. He’s gotta be fine, right? 

Not like a whole bunch of assassins are going pop up looking for them. Even Xehanort doesn’t have _that_ many assassins on the payroll.

Right?

Oh, who is he kidding. Demyx needs to find Vanitas _as soon as possible._

 

* * *

 

 

Of all the things Strelitzia ever thought would happen to her, she has to say: clinging to the back of someone’s Keyblade Armor was not one of them. 

The magical metal is rough against her palms, difficult to hang on to. She struggles to hold herself tighter and tighter against Vanitas as he runs through the trees.

Thankfully, he can’t run especially fast, due to their new company of three children and an elderly man. 

The flicker of something moving through the leaves, the shadows on the ground...she puts out a hand towards the closest child (the only girl), crying, “Look out!”

Monsters, _Heartless,_ leap out of the earth with their claws extended. Blue markings and long head tendrils...Neoshadows. 

Vanitas whirls around quickly, hands full of already summoned Keyblades. Slashing about, taking out the Neoshadows before they have a chance to land. 

“Whoa, you’re like Sora!” the dark-haired boy blurts out, stepping closer to Vanitas. The armored helm tilts. Strelitzia can’t see his face, of course. She’d still like to think she knows him well enough to say he’s a bit frustrated by that statement. Either that or confused. 

 

At this point, Strelitzia’s fingers fail their sworn duty. She stumbles off now-still Vanitas, bending over to place her sore hands on her knees. The girl looks over, her face scrunching up in worry as she bends over to Strelitzia’s level. Her eyes are very green, as green as grass. 

“Are you alright?”

Strelitzia bites her lip, looking away as her cheeks heat up. Oh no, what’s she supposed to say? It’s the _worst_ when strangers talk to her, especially _nice_ ones. She never quite knows what to say. 

“Okay,” she manages to squeak out, as Vanitas takes out yet another Neoshadow jumping in and out of the ground. The last one, as it turns out. 

The six of them wait for anymore to pop up. Thankfully there aren’t any. 

The sound of twigs breaking and more leaves crumpling. The sound of something else moving towards them. Everyone stiffens as Vanitas raises his Keyblades, both visible and nearly invisible. 

 

Those same Keyblades lower instantly when it’s the smaller Vanitas of this time that stumbles out into the light. The black one even disappears. Sheathed. 

“Oh, it’s only you.” Vanitas holds out his right hand to his younger self. “Good to see you.” 

The smaller Vanitas freezes, leaving the offered hand hanging. Too long without response leads to the older Vantias withdrawing his hand and turning once more to look ahead. Once his attention turns away, only then it seems the smaller Vanitas is comfortable slotting himself into the back of the group, a couple feet away from everyone else. 

 

It’s calm. Seemingly. No enemies yet and if more come, the Dark-users are sure to catch them, she’s sure. A hand enters her view and startled, Strelitzia looks up into green eyes. 

“I’m Olette,” the girl offers, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Strelitzia,” she mumbles back, eyes looking over the rest of the company. Two boys, one blond and one brunette, and the strange old man who has the name of Ansem like the Heartless Demyx had stayed behind to fight. 

And Vanitas, of course. Both of them. One in front, one behind, both watching for enemies. 

“Those are Keyblades, right?” the brunette speaks up, “How’d you get them? I thought only Sora had one...” He scratches at the back of his head. “But now that I think about it, seems silly there would only be one.”

The shorter Vantias snorts, summoning his own Dark Keyblade into hand. “What a stupid thing to think.”

“Calm down,” his older self says simply, head turning towards his younger self. Who shuts up instantly, but keeps his Keyblade out. 

 

“I too find myself curious about this situation,” the old man says in a deep, deep voice. “Might I ask who you are?”

“Strelitzia,” Strelitzia says a little louder, drawing all attention to her. She nearly shrinks back, but rallies herself just in time. Mustering enough will to keep on talking to these strangers. “That’s Vanitas and that’s also V-”

“Von. Call me Von,” the elder of the two Vaniti interrupts, tapping his clear Keyblade against the side of his leg armor. He half-shrugs in response to Strelitzia’s questioning look. “Easier that way.” 

The old man looks him over with orange eyes. “Very well, ‘Von.’ How did you get a Keyblade?”

“None of your business, old man.” ‘Von’ steps forward, eyes on the trees. 

His younger self follows his lead, stepping in right behind him. 

Strelitzia squints into the forest, looking for whatever has caught their attention. A flash of white. Something that looks like a budding flower sitting up ahead. 

“No one touch that.” The older Vanitas strides up to the bud, making sure both of his Keyblades are out. 

Strange popping sounds. Even stranger creatures warp into existence, long and thin, a strange upside-down heart-like symbol on their faceless heads. 

“Nobodies,” his younger self hisses, his shadow quivering. 

The ‘bud’ springs into motion, opening up to reveal a tall creature edged with pink. Wielding a pink scythe, slicing forward at ‘Von.’ ‘Von’ leaps back and strikes back just as fast, causing the creature to explode into Dark particles. Before anyone else even has a chance to react. But more come, revealing themselves in order to swiftly string together their attacks. 

 

The younger Vanitas is not quite as fast but still pretty fast in his own attacks, putting his entire body into driving the ‘Nobodies’ back away from the rest of the party. Strelitzia summons her own weapons, her still new sickles (oh, she hopes she’s using them correctly!) and lowers herself in a ready stance. To defend those who stand behind her. 

She doesn’t have much reach with her sickles, and many times, in attempts to attack the Nobodies, she draws dangerously close to getting hit herself. 

Before long, she’s sweating heavily, her body naked under this strange coat slick with sweat. But she can’t stop. Not when the other two Vanti are still fighting, still defending them. 

A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye. She turns just in time to catch new Nobodies warping into existence. Their coloring is much darker compared to the rest, and their hands are nothing but blades spiraling around each other. 

They run at the kids and the old man, arms behind their back as they do so. Too fast and the other defenders are too far, too stuck in the swarms of other Nobodies. There is only her.

“No!” 

Strelitzia rushes forward and in pure desperation, her blades flash with a newly-familiar hungry energy. Doom. She slashes forward and the new Nobodies slash back, spinning like tops to do so. 

TEN. 

She barely manages to land on her feet. 

NINE.

Raises herself on her tiptoes, to dash forward again.

EIGHT.

Thankfully, the Nobodies have turned their attention to her, not the weaponless kids. Not the weaponless old man. Only her.

SEVEN.

Her head throbs with the silent countdown. 

SIX.

The Nobodies spark with Thunder, ready to call it down on her.

FIVE.

Strelitzia raises her sickles.

FOUR.

The sparking grows more frantic and the Thunder comes. Violent and striking everywhere at once. 

THREE.

Strelitzia cries out, body jerking under the sudden shock. Her vision blurs. 

TWO.

Her heart thumps, loudly reminding her newly gained body. She can’t die here. Not now. Not when they’ve done so much for her.

ONE.

The children behind her cry out as well. They reach out to her, even in the middle of this swirling maelstrom of Thunder magic. 

She must _win._

DOOM.

The countdown ends. Her attackers jerk to a sudden stop and _explode_ out of the world. Every single one of them. The sudden drain on her mana stores takes her by surprise, and she pants for breath, even as she struggles to keep standing. 

“Great fighting.” The older Vanitas swirls his blades effortlessly to keep the scythe-Nobodies back, giving her a nod. His younger counterpart says nothing, but he nods at her as well. 

 

As suddenly as the attack began, it pauses. The Nobodies draw back, in order to make way for two figures to form themselves out of the Dark. Figures wearing dark cloaks like her own. 

“Curious, that one of your own uses Doom magic,” speaks the taller of the two. Strelitzia frowns when she hears him. Does she know that voice...? Her heart twinges. 

“We’ll use anything we can get.” The older Vanitas stalks forward. “Back off, before I obliterate you.” 

The shorter figure laughs. “Oh, you think you can do _that_?” Clearly a woman. 

“Leave,” Vanitas repeats firmly. 

“Not until we get what we came for.” The woman’s gloved index finger points at the younger Vanitas. “ _Him_. You see, the old man’s pretty upset that you left us.”

The younger Vanitas snarls, bristling, “He can _stay upset.”_

“Too bad. We’re not giving you a choice.” Three small knives appear in her hand and then blur into motion as she throws them at the older Vanitas.

Thankfully he manages to catch with a quick Dark Barrier, that flickers out once it absorbs the hit. He moves forward, clearish Keyblade in front to block any hits and his black Keyblade slicing forward in an attack. 

A pink scythe, one much like those the other Nobodies held, swings through the air to knock Vanitas’ Keyblade aside. Doesn’t phase him at all, Vanitas just swings back into motion with a follow-up. 

A follow-up that manages to brush the man’s hood, to push it down. To reveal a head of pink hair. Pink hair...that face...Strelitzia’s eyes widen. 

The scythe is raised, about to cut down. 

“No!” She rushes forward, pushing past the younger Vanitas, who’s right dodging the other figure’s throwing knives. 

She jumps in between Vanitas and this stranger, _Lauriam_ , holding up her sickles. 

 

“No! Lauriam!”

Yellow eyes widen, and the scythe pauses midswing. “How do you know that name?”

Strelitzia’s arms tremble from strain, holding up her weapons to hopefully catch any future strikes. “Lauriam...you forgot me?” Her eyes water. From stress, no tears are threatening to spill out, okay?

She pants for breath. Can’t keep this up for much longer, been too long since she last got into a fight. 

“Who are you?” Yellow eyes, not like Demyx’s at all, all sickly and unnatural in that familiar face, stare at her. Stare at her like they don’t know her at all. 

“I’m Strelitzia,” she whispers, lowering her sickles. “What happened to you, Lauriam?”

“Strelitzia...” Lauriam lowers his scythe as well. “How do I know that name?”

“I’m your sister!” she cries out, reaching out to snag a black sleeve. 

Lauriam stumbles back, out of reach of those grasping fingers. 

His companion rushes over to him, lowering her hood to reveal blonde hair. That hair...Strelitzia knows her too. Elrena, one of Lauriam’s closest friends. “Marluxia, get up!”

Marluxia? Why was Elrena calling him Marluxia?

Strelitzia looks back and forth between the two of them, wearing those familiar black cloaks. Armed with strange weapons like her sickles. Weapons they had just been using to attack Vanitas. 

What had gone so wrong, for this to be happening? For them to be _bad guys_?

What could she _do_? 

 

“Stop fighting! Please!” She begs, throwing herself forward once more. Hands outstretched. 

Vanitas pauses. Doesn’t put his Keyblades away, holds them up still, but doesn’t attack any further. His younger self snorts. “They attacked us first,” he points out. 

“But he’s my brother!”

Everyone stops at that. She can practically feel their eyes looking between her and Lauriam. 

“...Lauriam,” the older Vanitas says slowly, like he’s tasting the word. “You’re Lauriam’s Nobody.” 

A Nobody? How was Lauriam was one of those white creatures? 

Lauriam’s yellow (why are his eyes _yellow_? They’re blue) eyes narrow. “Who are you, to know that name?”

“If you’re Lauriam,” Vanitas’ Dark Keyblade swings over to point at Elrena. “Then you must be Elrena.”

Elrena bristles. “You...who are you?”

Ansem, the old man, talks, “How do you know this, Von?”

“I know lots of things.” Vanitas waves a hand at Ansem, before turning back to Elrena and Lauriam. “But if you’re them...aren’t you curious about this? About how I know?”

Elrena and Lauriam exchange a look. “What are you suggesting?” her brother, her _grown_ brother asks.

Strelitzia can almost hear the smirk in Vanitas’ next words, as he puts his weapons away to fold his arms over his chest. “Well, if you want answers, then you can’t kill us. Or take Vanitas away.”

“We could take her!” Elrena snaps back, gesturing to Strelitzia. 

“How ‘bout...no.” A new voice enters the scene. Everyone stiffens at the newcomer’s appearance, all but the elder Vantias and Strelitzia herself. 

She brightens, at the figure stepping out of the shadows. 

“Demyx!”

 

* * *

 

 

Demyx steps out...to what he would say was a stand-off, if Vanitas had been taking it seriously. 

Strelitzia is the only one happy to see him, from her excited cry. All of the other new people...worried about what his presence means. Except for Minitas. He just doesn’t give a shit. Vibrating and ready to attack...Marluxia and Larxene? Huh.

“I guess Xehanort would send you here, Marly,” he muses out loud, stepping closer to Vanitas with his hands in his pockets. HIs pockets full of the strange star ornament. “Find what you’re looking for?”

“You’re Demyx’s Heartless...it does make sense that you would be here, with the one who freed you,” Marluxia says, looking Demyx directly in the eyes. Kinda impressive, actually. Not a lot of people willing to see those slit yellow eyes, the strange X-shaped scar on his face that shifts into a new place each time you look away. 

There’s a loud surprised coughing sound, from Ansem the Wise’s direction. When Demyx chances a look, the kids other there just look confused. Ansem the Wise, though...he appears concerned by this revelation.  

That’s fine. Most people find it strange running into a sentient Heartless like himself. 

(Shit, shit, _shit._ He hates this. Why did Zexion have to remind him about everything that’s wrong with his existence?) 

(Makes everything worse, having those icky thoughts closer to the surface.)

“Yep, that’s me. You should leave,” Demyx suggests. The shadow pooled under his feet flares. “Before you force me to kick your ass.”

“Try it,” Larxene hisses, fingers twitching for her knives. 

“Please don’t,” Strelitzia says quietly. 

Startled by the sudden request, Demyx shoots a glance over at the young girl. She’s wrapping her fingers together, leaning back and forth on her heels. Nervous. Very nervous. Her heart pounds with it. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks quietly, dropping to one knee. 

Strelitzia lifts her chin to look him straight in the eyes. But it’s Minitas that answers instead. “Marluxia’s her _brother._ ”

Yeah, they already knew tha- wait, but she hadn’t. Minitas hadn’t. And they hadn’t guessed Xehanort would send Marluxia and Larxene after them. (Stupid of them, really. Should’ve thought of that much.)

Demyx rises to his ‘feet,’ fighting back a sigh. “So, no fighting then?”

Vanitas shrugs, swinging around Last Requiem in his hand. “As long as they don’t start it.”

Larxene opens her mouth, but Marluxia is just as quick to speak first. “We will not.”

Vanitas stares at them, from behind his visor, before giving them a stiff nod. “Alright then.”

“Fine,” Demyx allows, folding his arms over his chest. 

 

One of the kids, looking between Marluxia and Strelitzia, takes a turn to talk. The blon crazy one, Demyx thinks. “Is that why she has...knife-sticks, instead of a Keyblade? Cuz her brother?”

“Don’t be stupid, those are _kama_ ,” Larxene scoffs. Everyone stares at her in silence. “What? It’s _obvious._ ”

“Whoa, Larxene, I didn’t know you were such a nerd,” Demyx says in disbelief. He feels his mouth stretch out into a wide almost-grin. 

Larxene’s eyes narrow, and her knives itch out between her fingers as she points at him. “Watch your mouth, beach bum.” 

“You can’t call me that, it’s been _years_ since I last slept on a beach!” Demyx jabs a finger back in her direction. “And stop pointing, it’s rude!”

“I suppose some things never change,” Murluxia speaks up at last, looking Demyx up and down carefully. But only for a moment, before his eyes return to his sister once more. Can’t get enough of her, apparently. 

If Marluxia steals Strelitzia away...well, Demyx isn’t exactly sure what he would do. But he would do _something_ , that’s for sure. The kind of something that wouldn’t end well. 

Stelitzia shuffles her feet, but remains standing next to both Vanitas’s. Vaniti?

“What the heck is going on?” one of the weird kids speaks up, the noisy blond one. 

 Demyx sighs, gloved hand going up to scratch at his scarred cheek. “I don’t even know anymore. Family squabble? Family reunion? Both? Who knows.” 

“No one is fighting anyone,” Marluxia says calmly, stepping forward. Towards Strelitzia, of course. 

Vanitas taps Last Requiem against the ground. “...Right. Stay back, unless you want to lose a foot.” 

Marluxia pauses, yellow eyes carefully examining Vanitas and the Keyblade he holds.

“It’s okay, it’s Lauriam,” Strelitzia attempts to assure him. 

“ _Lauriam_ almost chopped my head off. He’s staying over there,” Vanitas says flatly. “Where Demyx can gut him if he tries anything.” 

The two Nobodies glance at each other in disbelief, and then look over at Demyx. He wiggles his fingers in a wave back. 

“ _Demyx_ , of all people?” Larxene scoffs. “Give me a break!”

Demyx grits his teeth. Of _course_ she reacts like that. They all do, they all know his Nobody after all. His _useless, lazy_ Nobody, that they treat as less than nothing. 

(He’s not nothing.)

(He’s a _monster,_ and monsters are not nothing.)

His gritted teeth stretch out into a parody of a smile. “Why don’t you try me, then, _Larxene_? I’ll give you a break, all right.” He holds out a gloved hand, flexing his fingers. 

“Please no fighting,” Strelitzia cheeps out, stepping out of Vanitas’ shadow. 

“I want to see who wins,” Minitas says, in the exact opposite spirit of Strelitzia’s request. 

 

“Can we not have a battle royale while we’re escaping from that other guy?” The fleshy kid cries out. 

The other guy...? Oh right, Ansem. Demyx waves a dismissive hand. “I took care of that. He’ll probably come back, but we should be out of here before he does.”

He taps his chin. “That being said...where should we go?”

“Um...” Strelitzia squirms a bit, as everyone’s eyes go on her. “Can we get clothes? Please?”

Why...oh right. She doesn’t have anything but that stupid coat on. Like he does, but it’s not like he’s really got anything else under his coat besides shapeless shadow bits. And it’s not like either Vanitas or Minitas know anything about clothes, having spent their lives wearing their _actual_ birthday suit. Vanitas _only_ got actual clothes recently. “Forgot about that. Oops. Now I feel bad.”

“You forgot she doesn’t have clothes!” Larxene narrows her eyes, twisting a knife between her fingers. 

Marluxia is definitely glaring at him and Vanitas. It’s rather astounding how he can manage to accomplish that at the same time, when they’re standing in different spots. 

“I have some clothes she can borrow,” the other girl says. 

Demyx snaps his fingers and points at her. “We should do that then! Where do you live?”

“In town, duh,” Blond kid huffs, rolling his brown eyes. 

In town. Where all the dull ordinary people live, that wouldn’t take kindly to the cloaked and armored strangers with weapons. Vanitas says it first. “We should split up the group for now. There’s too many of us.” 

“So who’s going?” Demyx asks. 

“We’ll stay,” Vanitas says instantly, gesturing to himself and Minitas. Minitas doesn’t argue, only folds his arms over his chest. “You go.” 

Demyx nods. “Alright. The kids and me?”

“We’re going too!” Larxene shoots out, leaning forward with her hands on her hips. 

Vanitas snorts. “You guys? Don’t make me laugh. You’ll draw more notice than we will.”

“Then I will stay and Larxene will go,” Marluxia says calmly. He nods to his partner. “Keep an eye on her.”

“Of course!” Larxene nods, satisfied.

“Old man...? You stay here,” Demyx orders, swirling the hem of his coat. 

Old man, to his disappointment, doesn’t fight the decision made for him. Only agrees by inclining his head and moving further into the shadow of the trees. 

“We’ll decide where to go next, go get her some clothes.” Vanitas flicks a hand. “Go ahead.”

Demyx flicks some fingers back. “See you soon.” He turns to the kids. “Alright, where to now?”

“Olette’s place,” all three agree at once. ‘Olette,’ the girl, takes Strelitzia’s hand to tug her along. “I have all kinds of outfits you can borrow!”

“Thank you,” Strelitzia says quietly, willingly going along with the gentle tugs. 

 

As the kids race ahead into Twilight Town, both Demyx and Larxene linger behind. Careful to keep to the shadows, and careful to keep an eye on Strelitzia. And on each other, of course. 

Just because they _might_ be allies now, for Strelitzia’s sake, doesn’t mean much in the face of years full of mutual disagreement and abuse. 

Yeah, this is gonna be fun. 

 

**Xtra: The Graceful Assassin**

A curious situation Marluxia’s found himself in. He’d never thought he’d ever discover the owner of the face he saw every time he glanced over at the puppet. 

Or that owner happens to be his...sister. 

There’s a movement in his stomach, rather than his heart, at the thought. A punch to the gut. What should he do?

He shifts in place, drawing the attention of his ‘companions.’ Vanitas is quick to draw his Keyblade, as expected. His normal faceless mask points in his direction.  

Von, as the other introduced himself as earlier, before he and Larxene has started the first wave, only looks over. He presumes so, judging by the movement of that black helmet. Much like Vanitas’ own, but with metal instead of shadowed glass. 

“Vanitas, he won’t try anything.” Armored gloves tap at a black Keyblade’s hilt. “Will you, Lauriam?”

Marluxia’s gloved finger tighten into a fist. Wishing, just for a moment, he could summon Graceful Dahlia into them. “That is no longer my name.” 

“Oh right. Marluxia, that was it.” Von, surprisingly, dismisses his Keyblade and steps forward. He raises his now free hand, palm up. Waits. 

Marluxia stares at the offered hand, eyes half-lidded. 

“Come on, take it. You’re not scared of me, are you?” The smirk in that strange (somewhat familiar) voice is clear. A dare. One that cannot go unchallenged. 

Marluxia fights back a snarl and places his hand in Von’s. 

The hand snaps tight around his wrist like a bear trap. Pulling the decently tall Nobody closer to the much shorter Von. 

Marluxia swiftly pulls himself free. Or attempts to. Somehow, Von’s grip is more than a match for unnatural Nobody strength, holding on tight. 

“You try to kill anyone here, or lose control to _Xehanort...”_ Von spits. He suddenly lets go. “I’ll kill you myself. Got it?”

“...Understood.” Marluxia says coldly. His once trapped hand goes up to his chest, as he turns away from Von and Vanitas, to rub at where his heart used to be. 

Where _his_ heart sits instead. Throbbing. Burning. _Pushing_ him to complete his mission, to kill the arrogant usurper, to return the apprentice to his rightful master. 

The more he stands there, without acting on those orders, the more it _throbs._

His other hand flexes. 

_I am not yours, Xehanort. No matter what you think._

With new memories pushing themselves to the surface, blurry as they are, he will _never_ be Xehanort’s loyal vessel. 

 _Strelitzia_. He closes his eyes and her face flashes behind his eyelids. The pit in his stomach grows deeper. 

 

He can’t leave her to these fools, who have so directly taunted the Organization. If he or Larxene don’t kill them, a different Organization member will instead. 

No, Strelitzia isn’t safe with them. But he can’t take her away. Not yet. Not when Demyx’s Heartless stands guard, not when Von with his Keyblade watches him carefully. 

They’ll need to wait, him and Larxene. Wait like they did before, wait until the fools’ eyes are no longer on them. Then...well, they’ll take care of it. 

Finish off the orders, so Xehanort’s eyes will no longer be on him. 

Hide Strelitzia, somewhere he’ll never find her. 

A small smile visits Marluxia’s face at the thought. Yes, a decent enough plan to start. He’ll have to iron out the details with Larxene, of course. But to start? Good.

 

“What are you smiling about?” Von questions him, rocking back on his boots. 

Marluxia turns his face towards Von once more. Von and the apprentice, and the old man who is still watching them all very carefully. 

“What would you say to gaining a few new companions?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some extras while writing this chapter:  
> -Minitas only knows about Nobodies because an Organization Nobody 'enlightened' him after he kept killing every Dusk he ran into on base. (He stopped, after that 'enlightenment.' Barely.)  
> -Strelitzia is lucky she survived the Ninja Thunder. Thanks to her replica body and Marluxia's data serving as her baseline, she's quite sturdy. That same data is what is giving her access to her kama and Doom.  
> -Ansem the Wise is quite confused to what's going, thank you very much.  
> -Larxene is now a weapons nerd. Particularly a knife nerd. Sorry, I don't make the rules, that's just how it works.  
> -Reminder: Marluxia is still Marluxia, the Graceful Assassin, even with Strelitzia now on the scene.


	20. Eir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naminé has a crush and a reunion. Aqua trusts someone of the Light. Lea is confused and continues to be confused.

It’s....good to see Ajax again. To be reminded of why they’re doing all of this in the first place. 

She’s not alone here. There are others who know what happened, know what went so  wrong. What needs to be fixed. 

(Feels good for him to touch her again.)

(Run his fingers through her hair.)

But now he’s gone. Gone to Radiant Garden, of all places, and she’s here. In Merlin’s Forest once more. Trying to make up for her mistakes. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Naminé says to Axel. He’s upright once more, healed of all the damage she had done to him. The infirmary in the Mysterious Tower is well-stocked with quite potent curatives.  

He waves a hand. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Um, do you need an apology card?” she asks, uncertain. Ajax did recommend she give Axel one, but she wasn’t sure if the man wanted a card or not. 

“An apology card?” Green eyes blink at that. “Uh. No? Thanks for the thought, though.”

“Do you still wish to learn from me?”

“Of course! You’re the only one who knows what they’re talking about here!” Axel says instantly. He then glances over awkwardly at both Kairi and Merlin. Merlin, who’s supervising this time (that’s good).

The wizard merely smiles. “No offense, my boy! I’ll be the first to admit Keyblades aren’t my best field.”

“And I’m learning with you, Axel.” Kairi punches the tall former Nobody in the arm. “Don’t you forget it!”

“I’ve got it memorized,” he assures her. 

 

“Hello.” 

Naminé swirls around, to meet the owner of this unexpected voice. What she sees...is just as unexpected as the voice itself. 

First thoughts? _Beautiful._ Even wearing rags, the woman’s blue hair and eyes have a particular luster and energy to them Naminé’s only seen a few times in her life. A stubbornness that keeps her going through the hardest of times. Her heart glows and it’s _beautiful_. Moonlight solidified. 

She had met this woman only once before, through Kairi. If finding her body could count as a first meeting.

(Kairi comes upon the scene, chasing after a cluster of small Blue Rhapsodies. She had killed all with Fire, except for one that managed to escape her. To here. 

“Where did that Heartless g- oh.”

A blue-haired body, folded over the Keyblade in its chest. Cooling rapidly, still with a rock-hard stiffness. 

Another smaller body laid out nearby. A bloody Keyblade on the ground next to it. Chest still moving. Barely. 

Kairi carefully makes her way over, Naminé watching through her eyes. 

They both blink and respond as one upon seeing the body’s face.

“Sora?”)

She blinks, coming back to the current reality. To the not-dead (pretty) woman standing before her. Waiting for a response. 

Naminé gives a swift bow and a just as quick smile to the Keyblade Master. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Naminé.”

“My name is Aqua.”

Naminé bites back an instinctive _yes, I know that,_ replacing it with a gentle nod of acknowledgement. 

(“Aqua...that’s who Kairi found next to me.” Red and blue eyes gleaming in the lowlight of the dying coals. 

“I gutted her,” he spits out, “like a shitty fish. Made her hurt, made her bleed. I got in _real_ close and bam! I killed her.”

A sharp-toothed smile, looking almost like fangs. “Do you still trust me, Naminé?”)

“I’m glad I can finally meet you,” Naminé says. It’s not even a lie. 

“It’s good to meet you as well.” Aqua smiles. A quiet, small one. Like she hasn’t smiled in years. (She probably hasn’t.) “It’s always good to meet another female Keyblade wielder.”

A Keyblade wielder? Oh. That’s why she’s smiling, that there’s another Keyblade wielder to help her out. Of course. Naminé opens her mouth, to correct the Master of her assumption, but Axel interrupts her before she has the chance to speak. 

“Hey, could you do your little trick on her Keyblade?” Axel points at the Keyblade in question, the one in Aqua’s hand. 

Aqua tilts her head. “Little trick?”

Naminé _has_ to glance away from those ocean-blue eyes. Feeling the flush rising in her cheeks. She swallows, suddenly unable to speak. 

Thankfully, Kairi pips up for her. “Naminé can read Keyblades. She can tell you all of their abilities and powers, if you don’t know.”

“Oh, she can?” Aqua takes a moment to think, pursing her lips. 

At that point in time, Merlin coughs a little, drawing everyone’s attention. “I’ll keep an eye on your boy over there, if that’s all right, Master Aqua.”

Aqua gives him a nod and the old wizard goes off. Winks at the two of them for some reason. 

 

That done, Aqua turns to Naminé to give her a solid nod as well. Brings out her right hand and her Keyblade, her black and gray, very _solid_ Keyblade shimmers into existence. 

Right away, Naminé thinks, _that doesn’t suit her at all._ If she had to guess what the Master’s Keyblade looked like, it would have been a beautiful blue creature, formed of wave and sky. Maybe a star or two. 

Not _this_ blocky, old thing.

 

Naminé reaches out, but then hesitates. “...May I?”

“Go ahead.”

Naminé takes a deep breath and starts. 

“Strong in both magic and strength, a Keyblade inherited and passed down through the ages...” Naminé traces the Keyblade’s blocky gray hilt. Runs her fingers across Aqua’s  hand. (Her very _warm_ hand.) “A Keyblade with secrets, both Light and Dark.”  

A little frown dances at the edges at her lips as she delves deeper. There’s something else here...something familiar. One of the first magicks she ever experienced, the place she was ‘created’. Fuzzy and bright, white everywhere. “This Keyblade is connected to Castle Oblivion,” Naminé finally announces. “How?”

“Castle Oblivion used to be my home, the Land of Departure,” Aqua explains. “I transformed it into that castle with Master Keeper.” She lifts her Keyblade slightly, in indication of what Keyblade she speaks of. 

“Oh. That’s...” Naminé doesn’t even know what that is. Suddenly, the thought strikes her that her first impression of Master Keeper and Aqua had been quite wrong. Nothing suited more the blue-haired woman than a Keyblade with power enough to transform a whole world, a world that had served as Naminé’s ‘birthplace’. 

“Impressive,” Axel finishes for her. He’s smiling at her, for some reason. A reason that apparently Kairi knows, since she elbows him in the gut so the man leans over wheezing. 

 

A small smile plays at Aqua’s lips. “You almost sound like a Keyblade Master yourself, being able to know so much about Master Keeper.”

“Me, a Keyblade Master? Never!” Naminé shakes her head frantically. Not in a million years! Not after...that. Her failure. Her hand twists, her fingers tightening around loose fabric, hidden under her sleeve. “I’ll stick to being a mage, thank you very much.”

Her mind casts around, for something to distract Aqua from this line of conversation, before settling on the still-watching Kairi and Axel. 

“Why don’t you two spar again? Show Aqua what you can do,” she suggests, “She has more experience with using a Keyblade than I do.”

“Alright.” They both agree. Axel wiggles his eyebrows at her, smiling, before turning to the battle about to start. 

Why was he doing that?

 

“You know that boy, who was with Mickey and Riku?” Aqua asks, distracting her from figuring out Axel. 

“Ajax.” In response to the question in those ocean eyes, Naminé clarifies, “That’s his name. Ajax. Not boy. He’s my best friend.” 

“Ajax...that reminds me of an old story Terra likes,” Aqua muses out loud. “One of his favorite characters, his name was Ajax. Master Eraqus said that name meant...”

“Mourner. Or earth,” Naminé finishes. Partly to cover the hitch in the Master’s breath when speaking of her own Master. “Yes, that’s what Ajax told me too.” 

“Hm.” Aqua hums, turning her attention back to Axel’s and Kairi’s practice bout. But Naminé can’t help but feel there’s something incomplete about their conversation. That Aqua had been about to say something about Ajax, but hadn’t for some reason. 

For what reason?

Great, now that was going to bug her the rest of the day, trying to figure out what Aqua hadn’t said. 

Humph. Naminé forcibly drags her mind to Axel and Kairi’s spar. If Aqua wants to tell her, she’ll tell her sooner or later, that’s for sure.

 

* * *

 

 

Aqua doesn’t want to tell her about Ajax. 

How does Aqua tell this woman that her best friend is abusing Darkness, has likely already fallen prey to his own desires and rage?

She knows how she would have reacted (had reacted) when others told her of Terra doing the same. Besides, how can she say anything when she herself had fallen to Darkness?

Aqua steadies her breath, and opens her mouth to speak.

“Did anyone come with you?” Naminé asks suddenly, turning her baby blue eyes on Aqua’s face. 

“Ven’s here,” Aqua blurts out, surprised. “Merlin’s watching over him.”

“Oh right. I had forgotten he left to do that. Silly me.” A light chuckle. Naminé’s so full of Light, in a way that’s almost comparable to the princesses she met in the past. To Kairi’s Light. “Why is he sleeping?” Naminé walks a little ahead, back to Aqua. The two new Keyblade wielders have stopped fighting, at this point. Watching her and Naminé curiously. 

Aqua takes a breath. “His heart is missing.” 

 

“Missing? Oh, his heart’s just with Sora,” Naminé says casually. Too casually for the Time Bomb she just dropped. 

“Wait. What?”

“You didn’t know that?” Naminé twists her head to look over her shoulder, looking puzzled. “Why else would Roxas look like him? Ventus’ heart has been stuck in Sora’s body the entire time.” 

Aqua doesn’t know who this ‘Roxas’ but the redhead by the name of Axel seems shell-shocked by the revelation, so he probably knows him. 

“I need to find Sora, then,” Aqua says. _But what then,_ her mind prods. How would they get Ventus’ heart out of Sora, back where it belonged, without hurting them both?

“When you do, bring him back here. I’ll be able to get Ventus’ heart back where it belongs,” Naminé offers.

Aqua can’t help staring. “You can do _that_?” 

Master Eraqus (oh, how her heart still hurt every time she thought of him) had always said that to transfer hearts was a most delicate art, once that took much skill and dedication. 

Yet it fits somehow. That this delicate woman can transfer hearts, seeing the skill she has in reading Keyblades. Keyblades, which are, after all, the extension of the heart’s power. 

Naminé hesitates slightly, before nodding. “With time and effort, yes. I’ll be very careful,” she promises. “Ventus will wake up good as new and Sora will be just fine.”

“Thank you.” 

Naminé smiles once more. It’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. _Like Ven’s smile,_ she can’t help but think. 

“It’s the least I can do for you, Master Aqua.”

“Please, call me Aqua.” Aqua hesitates. She can’t believe that she’s about to do this, but...Ven can’t come with her. Again. 

 

Her heart screams at the thought of leaving him once more. Not after being stuck in the Realm of Darkness for ten years, back when she promised she would be gone only for a short while. 

But to quickly find Sora, she can’t have another body weighing her down. The little ship that Mickey had lent her barely fit the both of them the first time, and had certainly slowed the tiny vehicle down. 

This time is different from last time. She would be leaving him with people she could trust, not alone. 

She hasn’t known Naminé for very long, but something in her heart tells her she can trust her with Ven. Her Light is so very bright, after all.  

Never alone. (Never again.)

“Can you keep an eye on Ven for me?”

“Of course I will,” Naminé promises, turning her head to look down at the boy, sleeping underneath a tree. “I’ll watch this sleepyhead for you, Aqua. Don’t you worry.” 

Aqua lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Thank you.”

“Go find his heart. We’ll care for his body.” Naminé frowns slightly. “Where is he, anyway? I’ll need to know to better hide him.”

 

“Over here.” Aqua beckons Naminé over, walking towards a fairly large oak tree. Merlin stands nearby, fiddling with some device in hand. 

He looks up. “Done, I see.”

Ventus...he looks as peaceful as always. Like he might wake up any moment now. (But he won’t.)

Naminé crouches down next to him. Close, but not too close. Not close enough to touch. Aqua feels her body almost relax at that realization. 

“I’ll protect him. I swear on my heart and soul,” Naminé intones. A humming in Aqua’s heart. Yes, a promise that will be kept. 

“Thank you,” she can’t help but say once more. 

“It’s the least I can do.”

 

* * *

 

The first thing Naminé does, after Aqua leaves, is to veil Ventus’ body. Weave a tricky spell to convince searchers to look, that there’s nothing there. Not a true illusion, nothing like the ones Ajax creates on the fly, but a creation within her reach due to her grasp of memory-magic. 

Only the most willful, the ones that know what they’re looking for, who _want_ to find Ventus, will be able to pierce her fairy veil. 

“Impressive piece of magic there,” Merlin complements her. 

She smiles back at the old man, careful to keep her teeth tucked behind her lips. “Thank you.” 

“You’re quite good. Who taught you, again?”

(“You’re quite interesting. For a Nobody. But what price will you pay for my lessons?”

“Anything,” Naminé breathes. 

The dark fairy smiles. It’s not a very nice smile. “Excellent.”)

“Experience has been my best teacher, I find,” The Naminé of now says primly. 

“All right, keep your secrets for now.” The old wizard taps at his glasses. 

“As long as you can teach us that,” Axel interrupts. “That’s a decent trick I wish I knew.”

“Hm.” Naminé taps her chin twice. “I’m not sure if you have the right magical speciality to do it, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Yes!” Axel fist-pumps.

“But Kairi first.”

“That’s fair.”

“If I’m first...you have an idea how I can do it, right?” Kairi asks. 

“We can test out a few things,” Naminé agrees. She can practically feel the magic buzzing at her fingertips, in her bones. 

Wait...the _world_ is buzzing around her too.

“Someone’s breaking into this pocket of mine,” Merlin says, bemused. He pushes his glasses up his nose once more. 

 

Naminé takes a breath. (This is my fault. They’ve _found_ us.)

“Stay in the trees, I’ll keep them back,” she says firmly. 

“If you’re in trouble, we’ll help,” Kairi says just as firmly back. 

Naminé lowers her eyelids. She doesn’t argue. (You know that if they get past _you_ , they’re already doomed, willing to help or not.) “All right. Just stay back until then.” 

“C’mon, Kairi, let the big mad mage take care of it.” Axel taps at Kairi’s shoulder. 

Kairi stares up at her. Her eyes are so bright. _So young_ , Naminé can’t help but think once more. “You promise to let us help?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Kairi turns, to follow Axel into the trees. She looks back, once, over her shoulder. “Don’t forget, Naminé, you’re not alone.”

Not alone. Naminé huffs to herself, heading to where the wall ripples. 

Not alone. What a joke. She steps forward, too much space in her head, her heart. 

“I’ll be here in support,” Merlin says quietly, stepping back. Suddenly, there’s a tree. A tree with glasses. A clever disguise. 

They wait. Wait for the enemy to come. 

 

And come they do. Familiar black coats, on each and every one of them. Except for one individual who’s wearing black and red armor. 

Wait...she _knows_ that armor. That recolored, reclaimed armor. That Darkness reaching for her Light. And that blond mullet...they’re _here._ With others. But there is one in particular she focuses on .

 

“Van!” She rushes forward, arms held out. Catapulting herself into him, ignoring the hardness of his armor, of the sharp points jabbing into her, as Naminé wraps her arms around him in a full-body hug. Using her single hand to pat his hard shell. Slowly, cautiously, his armored arms wrap around her middle. Hugging her back. 

“Seems you’re happy to see me,” he whispers in her ear.

“Of course I am, Van.” She puts her head on his shoulder. “I missed you,” she whispers back, before letting go and stepping back. 

 

“Demyx.” She calms down a bit, giving the Heartless a bright smile. Demyx grins back and waves. 

“Hey Naminé! Good to see you again!” 

“You as well. Who did you br- oh.” Naminé looks over to the other people in their party, only to see the unexpected. Four others. Two are short, as short as Kairi. Children.

One wears a Dark Suit much like the one she faintly recalls Ajax wearing when first created. Masked. The other is a bright-eyed girl, long orange hair, wearing an Organization coat. 

The other two...they’re more of a problem. For her personally, at least. 

Naminé bites her lip. She never expected to see _them_ again, outside of her bad dreams. They were dead and gone. But apparently not. 

Marluxia and Larxene.

 

“What’s this?” Larxene is first to speak, flipping her knives between her fingers in her usual manner. _Light_ , they even act _the same_. 

“Who is this woman?” Marluxia asks. 

Naminé’s throat closes up. She stands there, mute.  
Thankfully, Vanitas takes a stand for her. “Don’t you have better questions to ask?” he says coldly. 

“Like how not to screw up being a big brother?” Demyx cuts in with. Rather cruelly, in her opinion, judging by how the orange-haired girl flinches at the words. She couldn’t care less what Marluxia thinks about this. 

Demyx, for his part, at least looks contrite and mouths an apology in the girl’s direction. The girl who must be Strelitzia, her heart so familiar. (Naminé held her heart, for a precious few seconds. Keeping it all together.)

And Marluxia is the brother her thoughts had worried so much about. That’s...huh. It makes a twisted sort of sense, almost, that this brother’s Nobody would end up being so cruel to little girls. To make up for what he lacked. 

Doesn’t make it better, of course. Yet there’s further explanations there. If she dare to investigate, look beyond the surface of meanness. 

 

“You should be thanking me,” the words escape Naminé before she even has a chance to really think her flurry of thoughts through. 

Did she really say that out loud? 

Marluxia raises an eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me.” Naminé steps closer, right in the Nobody’s personal space. Her heart beats harder and harder, faster and faster, as she looks up at her former tormenter (just a little). Right at his now yellow eyes. 

“I brought Strelitzia back. If you really do appreciate it, you should say at least a simple thanks.” 

“Who do you think you are?” Larxene’s eyes, just as yellow as Marluxia’s, narrow, stepping right up next to her partner in crime. 

Who is she? Naminé almost wants to laugh. Don’t they recognize her?

No. Of course they wouldn’t. 

The Naminé they knew was completely blonde. Young. A little girl at their mercy. A tool to use however they pleased. Of course they don’t recognize her, a fully-grown woman with red and blond hair, a woman who refuses to cower any longer.  

Naminé raises her chin. “I am Naminé.” 

“What? That’s impossible.” 

“It’s true. And you know what else?” Naminé can feel her lips pull back, in a facial gesture she has seen Vanitas himself do far too many times. A snarl. 

“You harm anyone here, I will _do to you_ _what I nearly did to Sora_.” Naminé bares her teeth. Somewhere in her heart, she knows she’ll regret that threat later, revealing that she still holds the power of altering memories to her will. Weak as it is, outside of Castle Oblivion. Right now, she can’t bring herself to feel anything else but _vindication_. 

A threat worst than death, if the way the pair rapidly pale is any indication. After all, death for a Nobody only means possible recompletion. 

Memories...are less easily fixed. Especially for Nobodies, whose entire existence is based on their memories. 

“You go, girl!” Demyx quietly cheers in the background. 

“That’s a decent threat for sure,” Vanitas agrees. “Ten out of ten.”

Ruining the mood? Definitely. That’s fine, though. The threat has been given, nothing more needs to be said. Naminé turns to smile at the two of them. And the children standing by them. 

“I’m glad you got here safely.”

Strelitzia and...a boy who reeks of Darkness. Who actually reminds her of Vanitas, the amount of Darkness he’s putting off. 

“Is this...?” she looks over at Vanitas.

Who nods and says, “Yeah, that’s Vanitas.”

Two of them? Huh. Only to be expected, there are two of herself after all. 

“Pleased to meet you, Vanitas.” Naminé holds out her left hand to him. He doesn’t take it. Which is fine. Vanitas (the one she knew for years) was much the same when Kairi and herself first met him. 

 

“May I get an explanation why all of you are here?” Naminé withdraws her hand. 

Demyx throws out his arms dramatically. “We decided we needed to regroup.”

“Need someone that can plan,” Vanitas adds on, in an undertone. “Xehanort’s not going down on his own.”

“Well, you came to the right place.” Naminé puts her hand on her waist. “I certainly am the brains of this operation, aren’t I?”

“You and Skuld,” Demyx agrees cheerfully, “It’s better that way for everyone.”

“And everyone else?”

“We’re...still figuring that out,” Vanitas says, gloved fingers tapping on his leg armor.

 

“Naminé,” a new young voice calls out. One that Naminé doesn’t know, but can guess the owner by context. 

“Yes, Strelitzia?” Her blue eyes meet teal ones. 

“Thank you for helping me,” the girl says cheerfully, putting her hands in front. (Where had these maniacs gotten her a body?)

“Of course, I’m glad I could. Is there anything else you need help with?”

“Do you know anything about kama? It would be nice to be able to help more,” Strelitzia says, summoning said kama into her hands. They’re bright orange and blue. Beautiful to look at and decently sharp. 

Naminé taps her chin. “I met someone with kama, a couple years back. Watched her fight.”

“Really? How’d they fight?” Strelitzia questions curiously. 

“Um...” Naminé looks away, fingers going back to comb through her hair. She fights the urge to twist her hair around a finger. “I actually don’t remember? She was pretty. Even though she was trying to kill me.”

“That actually...sounds about right,” Vanitas says with a sigh. 

“Hey, you be quiet! You’ve had plenty of people try to kill you before!” Naminé points in Vanitas’ face. 

“Didn’t get distracted by boobs when it happened,” Vanitas shoots back. Naminé can practically hear the smile in his voice, even when he’s still wearing his armor. 

“Boobs are very distracting,” Demyx says. Naminé’s not actually sure if he’s supporting either her or Vanitas, with that statement. 

“Um...can we get back to my kama?” Strelitzia squeaks, face all red. 

“I can teach you.” Larxene. She’s been watching all of this play out with a smirk on her face. “I know how to do kama, but knives are still _way_ better.”

“That’s great,” Naminé manages to say, past the lump in her throat. It’s best that Strelitzia gets help with her new weapons any way she can, even if that help comes from someone Naminé would rather not exist right now. 

Which reminds her of something...

 

“Oh, I should introduce you to the people I’m teaching right now!”

“You’re teaching?” Demyx asks, sliding over to her side, to peer curiously over at the trees. “Who?”

“Hey, Axel, Kairi, you can come out now!” She calls out to those same trees. Merlin’s still a tree. Waiting. A silent back-up. (If he hasn’t fallen asleep. Again.)

“ _Axel_?” Larxene laughs. “Of course he would be here!”

“Shut up, Larxene,” calls out a familiar redhead, stepping out into the light. His green eyes carefully look these newcomers over and Naminé notices he’s careful to step in front of Kairi. Between her and everyone else. 

Not that Kairi lets it happen. She walks out, right in front of him. Apparently not a care in the world. Strides right up to the three time-travelers, all clustered together. 

“You’re time-travelers too, aren’t you?”

 

The three all exchange glances. “Yep,” Demyx answers. He grins, scar slightly moving on his face. “Nice to see you again, Kairi.”

“Demyx?” Axel calls out, hurrying after Kairi. Flame Liberator is out, over his shoulder, Naminé can’t help but notice.  “You’re here too?”

“From the future!” He waves cheerfully, before turning back to Vanitas. Muttering, “Great. No matter where I go, he _still_ can murder me painfully.”

“Look, Naminé’s teaching him. She won’t let him kill you. Probably,” Vanitas assures him, patting the Heartless on the back. 

“Never,” Naminé agrees quietly, before raising her voice. “I’m glad you two got the chance to meet them. They’ll be able to help out quite a bit.”

She smiles at the two again. This is going to be _great_. 

 

* * *

 

 

Lea’s been through a lot of weird stuff over the years. Part of becoming a Nobody and having your world fall into Darkness, he guesses. 

This entire situation, he never would have seen coming in a million years. A single time traveler is one thing. (Isn’t Xehanort time-traveling too? Weird.) A whole group of them...with part of the Organization trailing behind them. And kids. Can’t forget the kids. 

That’s something else entirely. 

Naminé, of course. Demyx, with strange scars and weird eyes. And a guy in red-and-black armor, with ear things that look like a rabbit’s. 

 

“Need some enemies?” The Demyx look-alike offers. His eyes are yellow. (Just like Saix’s.) Holds out his hand, fingers positioned to snap. “Can bring out some Blue Rhapsodies for practice.” 

“That’s...actually not too bad of an idea,” the armored guy says. “But doesn’t he-” a gesture towards Lea, “Specialize in fire? Gonna need something else to get him to think outside the box.”

Oh, Lea _does not_ like the sound of this. “Can we start with something easy first? I just got my Keyblade!”  
Demyx looks confused by this, and the armored guy tilts his head in mimicry of Demyx’s confused head-tilt. Please don’t be what Lea thinks this is...

“Something easy? What’s the point of that? People don’t get stronger that way,” Armored guy says _exactly_ what Lea hopes he wouldn’t say. 

 

Thankfully, Naminé looks up from where she’s explaining something Kairi to speak up. “Don’t summon Heartless here, you two. You’ll break up Merlin’s barriers even more than you already have.”

Armor sighs heavily. “You’re no fun.”

Naminé frowns. Very disapprovingly, a much more developed version of the Sad Eyes TM Lea faintly recalls getting from a much younger Naminé in Castle Oblivion. “Van.”

Van, not being a Nobody, caves instantly. “Fine, whatever. No Heartless today, Demyx.”

“Aw.” Demyx lowers his fingers. “And here I was hoping for a little payback.”  
“Payback? Demyx, I didn’t do anything to you in the Organization!” Lea throws up his hands. 

“Didn’t do anything?” Demyx outright _scoffs_. A look of distaste that Lea’s never seen on the man’s face before, even in the middle of the general ‘emotionless’ grumpiness that was the Organization’s trademark. “Yeah, that’s right. You _didn’t do anything_.”

He then walks away, towards where Larxene is teaching a young girl knife tricks. (Larxene teaching anyone anything? What?)

Van shrugs. “He has a right to be angry.”

“I _didn’t do anything_ ,” Lea repeats. “Yeah, I hurt lots of people but I remember Demyx being one person I did not end up killing.”

“You can hurt people and not kill them.”

Lea thinks back to Roxas leaving the Organization, yelling about lies and how no one would miss him. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”

Van looks him up and down silently, before sighing. “A lot of work to do here. Hey, Vanitas, mind helping me out here?”

The short guy with the faceless mask, one that Lea’s sure is another kid, comes over. “With what?” he scorns, looking Lea up and down much like Van did a minute earlier. 

Van gestures to Lea. “Everything.”

“Wait, that does not sound like a good idea,” Lea shoots out, summoning Flame Liberator in one of his hands. 

Vanitas cracks his knuckles. “I can’t _wait_ ,” he says gleefully. Too gleefully. 

“Uh, Naminé? A little help here?”

“No help, only us,” Van says, just as gleeful as his sidekick. 

“Oh _shit,_ ” is all Lea has time to say before the two descend on him like a pack of hungry dogs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The woman with kama that Naminé met before...that's Emerald Sustrai. Very pretty.  
> -Headcanon: Sentient Heartless get pissed really easily. Especially relatively new ones.  
> -Aqua trusts Naminé so easily because she thinks she's a Keyblade Master like herself, and is strong in Light. Maybe someone should tell her Dark isn't all bad and Light can be bad too...?
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to request any scenes from the Future, with certain characters...? Go ahead. I'll attempt to write one-shots for 'em, as long as they aren't spoilers for later in this story.


	21. Agate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aeleus talks, Ienzo breathes, and Ajax juggles his ongoing anxieties. Also, a reunion.

From behind, Ajax very much so takes after Xehanort’s appearance. As he does from the front. The similar looks do not help Aeleus’ nerves at all, and probably not Ienzo’s either.  

But he needs to talk to the boy. Sooner rather than later. 

Determine his purpose in staying here, in submitting himself to Ienzo’s studies. 

(They’ve had too much experience with strangers come from nowhere to trust carelessly anymore.)

“Hello, Ajax,” he calls out. The boy nearly falls over, jumping at the sudden noise. Snarling like a wild dog. 

“What do you want...?”

“Aeleus,” Aeleus supplies. “I want only one thing right now: to know who you are.”   
“Who you are...?” Ajax repeats. A barked laugh. “I’m the replica your scientist buddies were working on, remember? To copy Riku?”

“No, you’re not.”

Ajax tilts his head. “What? That’s what I am.”

“That’s who you  _ were _ , when we first met,” Aeleus says, “I would like to know who you are  _ now _ , Ajax.”

The boy twitches at the usage of his name, before quickly rallying. “I killed Zexion. Who you protected,” he says, almost like a dare. “Shouldn’t you be kicking me out for that?”

 

Aeleus knows only too well how Zexion died. Too many long sleepless nights, gasped nightmares, never to be brought up in the light of day. 

Both he and Dilan have discussed being in the Organization, here and there. Not too much, too much would mean admitting how wrong everything had gone. 

Ienzo? Ienzo refuses to talk very much at all, about his stolen childhood, about being Zexion. 

Aeleus only knows how Zexion died due to those nightmares that leave Ienzo gasping for air, rushing not to be alone in the dark. (Can he forgive Lea for it? Possibly. Only after he forgives himself, for leaving Zexion and Vexen behind.)

He can’t blame this nervous boy, who seems more and more like an abused dog, an abused  _ person _ , the longer Aeleus interacts with him, for what happened. Perhaps it is time he let this boy know that. 

“You regret killing him, so this is your way to make up for it. Even if it leaves you uncomfortable in the process.” 

Ajax flinches. Bingo. “I  _ have _ to do something to make for it, to become a better person,” he says in a frantic rush. 

 

He’s young. He may have come from the future, but he must not be much older than Ienzo, a few years at the most. Young with no way to navigate this new world of the past, other than faded memories forced upon him.

Not for the first time, Aeleus is struck by how many children are involved in this ‘Keyblade War’ Xehanort wants. How many lives have been ruined not even directly, but from the  _ side effects _ of this desire. 

(How many worlds did you help destroy, Aeleus, because you didn’t say no?)

Ajax flinches, wiggles in place, whenever Aeleus shows any sign of getting any closer to him. Expecting Aeleus to hit him.    

 

“We hurt you.” Aeleus says quietly. “Perhaps not in the most direct of ways, but we still hurt you.”

“ _ You _ didn’t hurt me,” Ajax insists. “You didn’t force me to become someone else.”

Aeleus shakes his head. “No, I hurt you with my inaction. I apologize for that.”

Ajax lets out a shaky breath, putting his hands up behind his head. “I hate this. All of it. I hate how I only exist because of bad things.”

Only exist because of bad things? Aeleus taps his weapon slightly against the ground. “Explain what you mean by that.” 

There has been enough silence in this castle. He’s let it sit, in hopes that it would bring healing. But it seems the only way to fix these invisible wounds is to speak out, to let the words come out. So he’ll start here. 

Ajax paces back and forth. His hands keep coming up towards his head, before lowering themselves again. “I only got to be made, because you and the other people living here became Nobodies. Because awful things happened. I hate that, because wouldn’t it be better if those awful things never happened? But then I wouldn’t exist.” He lets out a long breath. “And I like existing. I like Naminé’s drawings, and colorful rocks, and doing hair, and my Keyblade. But it would be better if I never got a chance to  _ be _ .” Ajax gestures to himself. “For everyone.” 

Aeleus’s hands tighten around his axe. “I see.” Logical in its extremes, but the young man overlooks some other factors while making his conclusion. Much like Even with his quick conclusions, at times, or Ienzo during his bad days. “So you feel that you are a mistake that should have been made?”

Ajax lowers his head, so Aeleus can’t see his eyes. “I guess you could say that.” 

“You can’t change the past.” Aeleus realizes, as soon as the words leave his lips, words he’s said many times before (too many times) that they’re a mistake. Ajax’s response hammers in that realization. At the wild laughter that erupts. 

Ajax laughs. Laughs and laughs. “Are you kidding me? You  _ can _ , that’s the whole reason I’m here!” he gets out between chuckles. 

“...That ability is now lost to you, isn’t it?” Aeleus observes. “So you can’t change the past at this point.” 

“What does it matter? It’s better if I had never gotten the chance to exist.” 

(“It would have been better if I had died, instead of becoming a Nobody. Better that than to do such awful things for Xehanort.”)

For two remarkably different people, Ienzo and Ajax are similar in this respect of falling into cycles of blame and self-hatred. 

He hasn’t managed to help Ienzo to overcome that hate yet, but he’s trying. He can try for this young man too. 

“Are you sure it would be better for everyone if you didn’t exist?”

“...Naminé would be lonely, if I didn’t exist. And Vanitas wouldn’t have a sparring partner,” Ajax thinks out loud. Then he lowers his voice, so Aeleus has to strain his ears to catch the rest, “...but he wouldn’t have died, if I hadn’t been there. Would have escaped.” 

Aeleus doesn’t know who this ‘he’ might be, but he can guess what happened by the rest of the young man’s statement. He places a careful hand on Ajax’s shoulder. 

“He wouldn’t want you to throw your life away, not after paying such a price for it.”

“No. But he would still be alive if he hadn’t!” 

Ajax stomps off, steps echoing throughout the empty hallways. 

 

Aeleus sighs, rubbing the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. He could have handled that better, honestly. Perhaps Dilan would have some ideas about what to do next?

 

* * *

 

Can’t they just  _ leave him alone _ ? Ajax’s helping Ienzo with replica research and that’s all they need of him. Should be enough. That guard,  _ Aeleus _ , has no business asking him about his life, his failures. 

(And he’s  _ failed. _ )

(Big time.)

But enough of that. There are other problems that he needs to deal with. Namely, the Radiant Garden problem. 

 

Ajax’s never been to Radiant Garden. Not once in his life. 

Yet somehow he can navigate the castle’s halls without a second thought, can look at one of the strange devices in the lab and know how to run it. (Knows what lies in the basement underneath his and Ienzo’s feet.)

It’s a good thing too, that he knows  _ exactly  _ who to blame for this. Otherwise he would be pretty confused right now.  _ Fricking Ansem.  _

Sometimes having second-hand memories and abilities can be useful. In this case, it’s just annoying. Ajax doesn’t want to end up accidentally scaring Ienzo or Aeleus or their buddy Dilan by doing something too Ansem-like. 

In Dilan’s case, the man might actually end up killing him. If the guard in question would feel bad afterwards...Ajax isn’t exactly sure and he’s not really eager to experiment. 

 

Normally, to counter memory-influx, he would draw on another’s integrated memories. Ajax does have three other choices, to push Ansem to the back. Normally being the point here. These aren’t normal circumstances. 

Drawing on Zexion...full of Radiant Garden memories, just as bad. Plus he’s working with Ienzo, reminding the guy over and over again that Ajax killed him was just plain rude. As Naminé would put it, at least. 

Drawing on Riku...Ajax shudders at the thought, scratching at his arms. No, never, not in a million years. Not again. No Riku memories. Don’t need to ride  _ that  _ self-hate carousal for the next month. 

The last set of memories...he’s never quite looked through. They’re  _ there _ , but what’s in them? Not even Ajax knows. The only person that would know is  _ dead _ now. 

(“You should take my memories.”

“What? No, I can’t do that! You need them!”

Darkness-tainted eyes look steadily into his own green ones. “They’ll help, when I can’t  anymore.”

“Don’t say that!” Ajax hisses, “You’re going to escape with me!”

“...just take them. You’ll need all the help you can get.”)

No. He can’t look at them. Looking at those memories would mean...

“Mean that you’re dead. And I can’t do that,” he whispers, in the empty hallways. No audience but himself. 

 

Night’s Path comes to his mental call, formed out of the surrounding shadows. Once more Ajax examines it, tracing along its hilt, its overall form. 

Looks like the Soul Eater, with a glow-in-the-dark green replacing the red and deep purple replacing the black. Constantly glowing a low black-light, can’t forget that. A fin is missing between the farthest ‘fingers,’ forming a somewhat crooked key-shape. The eye at its hilt is half-closed. 

And its keychain...a familiar yellow star, streaked with orange. 

(A star. Made of orange glass. “What’s that?”

Dark fingers, almost as dark as Ajax’s own, close around the object. “A reminder. Of my friends.”)

Night’s Path...a Keyblade that his and his alone. The physical reminder of the two most important promises he had ever made in his life. One to Naminé, and one to his teacher. 

Promises he’ll keep, no matter what. But first Ajax needs to get over Ansem part of the equation...

“Fricking Ansem,” he moans to himself, leaning against a nearby wall. Tugs at his braid, making sure it’s all nice and tight. No danger of falling apart. Except for the usual normal ways of falling apart. 

His skin itches. His bones ache, the gravity of the world pulling so much on them. His eyes hurt. A million annoyances, all stuck together in one illogical whole. 

One day, they’ll unravel him. 

One day, it’ll be too much to bear.

But today...Ienzo needs his help. Needs him to keep it together. 

 

Help Ienzo. The rest...he’ll figure it out. 

A little bit at a time. And speaking of Ienzo...shouldn’t Ajax be heading down to help him out right now?

Yeah. That sounds right. Here he goes. Making up for his mistakes, one step at a time. 

(The only way he can.)

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for your time. I think I’ve gotten everything I can from you.” Ienzo pulls out the chair by the computer, clicking the screen-saver off. 

“No problem.” Ajax hops off his stool. Heads over to stand over Ienzo’s shoulder, examining the information now filling the screen himself. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“You’re a filled first generation replica. Quite different from the new standard Even appears to be setting currently.” Ienzo huffs out a loud sigh. “Useful, but not what we need to catch up. Not without Even’s upgraded notes on the subject.”

“Filled? Yeah, I guess I am but what do you mean by that?” Ajax taps the table. Right next to Ienzo’s hand, currently on the mouse. 

He’s got very nice fingers, Ajax can’t help but notice. Gentle fingers not meant for fighting, but for creating. Nice, but do you know what would be even nicer? If Ajax could actually see Ienzo’s eyes clearly.

Beautiful, like Aqua was in the Realm of Darkness, but in a different way. More like a person and less like a force of nature. Someone that Ajax thinks he could  _ like _ , more than admire at a distance.   

Wait, what in the void is he thinking? They don’t have time for this! With some effort, Ajax turns his full attention to the task at hand. (Not anything about how handsome Ienzo looks, when he lights up about what he’s learning. Nope, nope, nothing about that.)

Focuses on Ienzo’s tech, not Ienzo himself. That’ll help. (It has to.)

 

“The first replicas...” Ienzo begins, tapping away at his computer screen. Bringing up files full of all kinds of technical information beyond Ajax’s understanding. Ajax looks away, focusing on the countertop, before that information starts making sense. 

“They were created to take in as much data as they possibly could, to  _ become  _ what they mimicked.” Ienzo frowns slightly, deep in thought. “Almost like my abilities with illusions as Zexion, actually.” He adds a note to his phone, that Ajax just barely manages to catch:  **Examine similarities between 1stgen replicas + Zexion abilities** . 

“A filled replica is one that managed to take in all the possible data it could with its available storage space. Which is what you have done, actually.” A blue eye peeks out from under that fringe of hair with its twin in Ajax’s direction. “Out of curiosity, how many individuals have you managed to gather the data of?”

“Four.” Ajax bares his teeth. “Don’t ask again.”

“Four. ...Impressive. I didn’t know Vexen had...never mind. That was rude of me.” Ienzo’s gaze focuses back on his computer screen. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted. You were saying?” Ajax prompts, looming over the seated young adult. 

“Saying? ...Oh yes, first generation replicas were built to take in data, but that data built up on a new heart. Not the hearts of those the replicas copied. A new person, with the data of others collected inside.”

Ienzo pulls up yet more files, pictures of naked doll things Ajax faintly recalls seeing once, at the very beginning of his existence. 

Before he was anything, let alone a replica of Riku.

“Interestingly enough, some of the files I managed to recover of the first replica projects indicates the existence of a second replica much like yourself. I wonder what could have happened to it...”

“Them. They’re still a person, even if you don’t know what gender they are,” Ajax corrects firmly, folding his arms over his chest.

(Still existed.)

“My apologies.  _ Them. _ What happened to  _ them _ .” Ienzo closes the files on-screen. “My point is, the type of replica you are and the type of replica that the Organization is currently using appear different enough that I’m not exactly sure if studying your make-up will be able to help create a replica body for Roxas.”

“Not without creating an entirely new person, you mean?” Look, Ajax’s not dumb. He knows what Ienzo means by all this ‘building on a base profile’ stuff and ‘taking in data.’ They don’t want a replica of Roxas running around, they want  _ Roxas _ with his original heart and everything.  

And right now, they can’t do that. 

“Not that your help isn’t appreciated...” Ienzo’s shoulders slump as he sighs again. “But it’s not what we need to bring Roxas back.” 

“So we just need to hijack one of Vexen’s new replicas.” Ajax scratches at his neck, considering the situation.

“Easier said than done.” Ienzo places his hand on his chin, considering the newly blank computer screen. 

“Isn’t everything?”

The door to the labs slams open against the wall, interrupting their conversation. Dilan’s there, panting slightly. Keeping the door pressed up against the wall. 

“Ansem the Wise is back.”

 

* * *

 

_ Ansem the Wise is back.  _ Ienzo stands there, frozen in complete shock. Never in a hundred years...he  _ came back _ . How?

“I dunno. The same everyone else comes back?” Ajax says. 

Oops. He spoke that out loud?

“Yeah. And you said that out loud too. Are you okay?”

His hands are on his knees, head lowered. When did that happen?

“Sorry,” Ienzo breathes, “Just...a surprise.”

“Do you want to go see him?” Ajax offers a hand, within Ienzo’s vision. Reminds him of Xehanort’s hand, but not. Certainly brown like his, but it’s not fair to Ajax for Ienzo to keep comparing everything he does to Xehanort. 

“Ienzo, you need to breath.” Dilan’s voice and Dilan’s hand, on his back. 

He is breathing, though. Need to breathe to live and he’s very much so alive, his heart beating faster and faster. 

Can a heart beat its way out of its owner’s chest?

He certainly feels like it might. 

“-nzo. Ienzo. Can you hear me?” Ajax this time. Ienzo chances a short nod, chest tight. Is this what it truly means to have a heart? “Focus on my voice. See my hand?”

Still there. Waiting. Another nod. His chest somehow manages to tighten even more. 

“Okay. That’s a good start. Just focus on your breathing.”

The fingers wiggle slightly. “Breath in and then out again. In and out. Is it okay for me to take your hand?”

No. Ienzo shakes his head, focusing on the spoken ‘in and out.’ On matching his breathing to the words. 

“Alright. Would you like to sit down?”

Breath. Breath, Ienzo. You’ve done it all your life, why can’t you now? 

 

Eventually,  _ finally _ , Ienzo manages the seemingly impossible: he breathes. Sucks in air as desperately as he can. Until he’s hit the normal levels of oxygen intake once more. 

He looks up, to meet a pair of green eyes. Cyan, really. Full of an emotion that he can’t quite place, one on the tip of his tongue...

“I’m sorry about that.” He stands up straight once more, hands straightening his labcoat’s sleeves. 

“Don’t be. It’s okay, you know, to be afraid,” Ajax says to him. His hand is still held out, still lingering in the air. Reaching. “Worried about what his response will be.”

“I-” Ienzo’s throat closes up, thinking of the man he wronged that is possibly waiting upstairs for him. 

“You don’t have to come see him, Ienzo. I just needed to let you know that he’s here,” Dilan adds. “Possibly.”

“Do you think it’s him?”

Dilan turns his head, eyes not meeting Ienzo’s own. “Yes. I do.”

Ienzo takes another deep breath. “Alright. I can do this. I’ll see him.”

 

* * *

 

Once Ienzo stops talking, focused on his palms, Ajax settles back on his heels. Drops his waiting hand to by his side. Only then, does he realize that Dilan’s looming over him. Quite literally. 

“You have some experience with this. Hm.” Dilan’s face is the same as always. Very still and rock-like. 

“Just a bit,” Ajax agrees. Naminé’s ongoing trouble with anxiety, Vanitas and his out of the blue panic attacks...yeah, he does know a little about freak-outs like the one Ienzo just had. “Enough to help, I guess.”

Now to the cause of this mess in the first place... “Where’s Ansem the Wise? Hanging out up top?” he asks, standing up slowly. 

“I presume so.”

“Okay, I’ll go up then. Watch my back, don’t want him to go feral on me cuz he thinks I’m Xehanort or something.” Ajax cracks a smile on his face. Barely. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. If anyone would go feral, it would Even.” With that, Dilan heads through the door. Leaving a somewhat shocked replica in his wake. 

“Wait...was that a joke?” Ajax rushes after the guard, taking the steps two at a time. “C’mon, that a joke or not?”

As he runs upstairs, there’s a faint...chuckle behind. When he glances back, there’s only Ienzo, coming up the stairs at his own pace. Ienzo, laughing? No way. 

(But what if he is?)

(If he is, Ajax doesn’t mind. Ienzo deserves a smile or two.)

 

Ansem the Wise is in the main hall. Of course. Aeleus is there too. Watching. As he does.

“Xehanort!” is Ansem the Wise’s first response on seeing him. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Apparently the only people of color around here are  _ villains.  _ Apparently Ajax can’t be anything else than that, with his dark skin and silvery hair. 

Ajax rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I am  _ really  _ tired of people assuming that every time they see me. It’s  _ Ajax.  _ A-J-A-X.”

“Hm.” The old man’s orange eyes squint at him. “Now you wouldn’t happen to know two individuals by the name of Demyx and Von, would you?”

“You’ve run into them? How are those two idiots doing?” Ajax answers, his hands placed on the small of his back. Behind, where this man can’t see them shaking. 

Demyx and Vanitas...he hopes they’re okay. If Ansem the Wise knows of them, one of the ‘Light-siders,’ then the two were definitely not very safe. Not with the way they so blatantly used the Darkness everyone around here hated. 

 

Ajax had definitely been careless, in using his Darkness in front of Aqua the light-fanatic (or so Vanitas had explained her as). He woke up, sometimes, in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Afraid that Aqua would show up and kill him for being so tainted by Darkness. 

Irrational? Maybe. But anything was possible in this strange World, where Sins no longer stalked every step and the majority of the worlds still resided in the Realm of Light, rather than that of Dreams. 

(Death is always a possibility.)

 

Enough of the deep thoughts! There’s an old man here, talking to him. Ajax tunes back in, ears fuzzing up a bit as he tries to catch up to what’s going on in the world around him. “That’s good,” he blurts out. Hopefully a good answer to whatever spiel the old man just gave him. 

Ansem the Wise raises an eyebrow at him. “Is it? Good that several members of Organization appeared to have joined them?”

“Er, yeah, they can handle anything,” Ajax answers, tugging at the end of his braid. 

Thankfully, the old man turns his orange-eyed attention from him to Ienzo, who’s just caught up. 

“Master!” The young man cries out, hopping forward just a step closer, before catching himself and going back to his past distance. 

“Ienzo,” Ansem the Wise says back. Then opens up his mouth to say something else, probably some kind of apology. (He hopes.)

Not his to listen to. Ajax walks over, to settle down against the wall next to Aeleus. The man lifts an eyebrow.

“Not for me,” Ajax explains. 

“Of course.” A nod.

 

A knock, coming from the front door. Ajax blinks. 

“More visitors?”

“Hm.” Weapon out, Aeleus turns to open said door. Slowly, carefully, with Dilan at his side helping out. 

Once it creaks all the way open, someone spills into the room through the crack. Someone with brown hair and blue eyes, quite loud. Someone Ajax has seen for  _ years.  _

“ _ Sora _ ?” 

“Hi! Wait, who are you?”

Ajax doesn’t answer, electing to instead take in who else is entering the room after the Keyblade wielder. 

There’s Sora (of course), his two animal companions,  _ Skuld  _ (what), and someone else tall with long blond hair...

 

“Vexen!” he shouts, even as he backs up. His ears pop and fizz, eyes careful not to look away from the old scientist. (His creator.)  

“And who might you be?”

“That’s Ajax. A friend,” Skuld speaks up, before Ajax can even think of mustering up the words. “He’s my prisoner, Ajax, you don’t need to worry.”

And then he can’t find any more words, because he’s too busy staring at Skuld. A friend? Is that how she sees him? She’s never said anything so  _ nice  _ before. 

(“I hate you! Why don’t you just  _ kill  _ me?”)

At Skuld and... “Your  _ hair _ .”

Her long, straight black hair. Beautiful hair. Ruined by some strange green gunk and dried in funky chunks all over the place. Utterly disgusting. 

She flings said hair carelessly over her shoulder. Kind of. It mostly manages to hang there, awkwardly, stuck to her shirt. “I jumped into an ocean. Found some seaweed.”

“Found  _ some  _ seaweed? Looks like you dunked your head into an entire tub of it.”

 

Their conversation is then rudely interrupted by Vexen. Which is only to be expected really, from what his faded memories tell him about the man (er, Nobody?). 

“A name does not tell me why he’s here. Or why he looks much like Xehanort’s Heartless, for that matter.”

“None of your business, old man,”Ajax snaps, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Leave him be for now,” Skuld urges. “Don’t you want me to tell you what I promised?”

Defending him. (For once.) Has being around Sora changed her so much?

Vexen grumbles but backs down. 

Leaving Skuld to make her next out-of-character offer. 

“You can help with my hair, once we’re done. If you want,” she offers. She taps her cane against the floor, her fingers twitching. Visibly fighting the urge to turn away from Ajax. 

Ajax smiles. Just a little. “If you’re sure...I’m happy to help if you want it.”

“I would appreciate it. Come on, we should go.” Skuld and Vexen walk off. Should he be concerned about that? Maybe, but the guards probably got that possible disaster in hand. 

 

He turns his attention back to the rest of the party. The duck and the dog are muttering to each other, staring in his direction. Thankfully, they haven’t attacked him yet. Even better, Sora’s been distracted from actually realizing that Ajax is in the room by whatever conversation he’s having with Ienzo and Ansem the Wise. 

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Skuld’s here and ready to help. He’s here and ready for lies ahead. 

He has to be. 

 

**Xtra: The Chilly Academic**

He never expected to be back here, before Xehanort’s defeat. Not like this. 

His ‘captor,’ Skuld, thankfully gets straight to business before he has too much time to think about being back in Radiant Garden. 

“If you want to hear this, we need to go somewhere private. Will the lab work?”

“It should,” Vexen says, “Unless Ienzo has recruited another new individual while I was gone.”

Skuld shrugs. “Oh well. Let’s try it.”

She waits for him to lead the way, somehow able to track his position despite her lack of sight. 

Dilan and Aeleus follow them as well. Vexen can practically hear their silent disapproval in their steps. They shouldn’t trust him. Yet they do. (As long as he doesn’t touch the lab equipment once more, he’s sure.)

 

Being in the same ship as her has given him a decent amount of time to more closely examine her, gather as much data as he can on this stranger. 

She has a Keyblade, though she keeps in the shape of a white cane whenever possible. She’s functionally blind, though Vexen wouldn’t be surprised if she has some light perception. Functionally blind, yet somehow still able to fight like she is sighted. 

Using her Soul to weave a functional spider silk to fight with, fueling most of her magic with Soul...she would have made a strong, possibly terrifying, Nobody for the Organization. 

A good thing Xemnas never found her, then. 

 

They reach the lab soon enough, but the girl keeps going. Towards the location of his sins, where this entire disaster began. 

“Where are you going?” Vexen barks. 

She pauses, just long enough to call back, “Where’s Cell Number 4?” 

Vexen squints. What?

“I need to go there, it’s private enough to talk.”

“Do you mind?” He bites to the two guards.

“Feel free,” Dilan is the first to answer, waving his spear in the direction of the cells. “But just remember, we’re watching you both.” 

Aeleus says nothing, only nodding his assent. 

“Very well,” Vexen huffs, turning to follow the girl once more. To open up the cells for her. 

 

Once the... _place_ (the secret lab, a source of so much misery) is opened up, she makes a beeline for Cell Number Four. Pushes the door open with a rusty scream, and heads inside without even a pause. 

“It’s a lot smaller than I remember,” the girl remarks, after pacing through the cell once. 

What? That statement...implies she’s been here before. But she couldn’t have. Could she?

“This was my cell. Before.” She turns her head in his direction, to ‘look’ at him. Useless as the action is, with a blindfold over her eyes. A sliver of light, through that tiny window, falls upon her face. “Don’t you remember?”

(A small girl. Lacking memories like the new apprentice Xehanort. But unlike Xehanort, she didn’t even have a name.)

“Impossible.” He shakes his head. “That child disappeared a long time ago. You couldn’t be.”

“Yet I am.” Her face turns to the light coming through.  “I am Subject X. And stories of Luxu and I are intertwined in ways even I don’t understand.”

“Tell me.”

A head lowered in acquiesce. “Alright. It starts like this: Once upon a time, long ago, there was a place called Daybreak Town...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Demyx dropped off Ansem the Wise, Dark-Corridor style.   
> -Ajax's voice: is it legal to get a crush on your murder victim?
> 
> Quick question, if you readers wouldn't mind answering: which of the time travelers seems to be the most stable? The least? And why?


	22. Blackhole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skuld says good-bye, manages bonding with Ajax, and ruminates over the origin of the Sins. 
> 
> The headaches are getting worse.

Once Skuld’s told Vexen _everything_ about what he’s asked for (well, everything she can think of, that doesn’t involve painful memories), she heads back upstairs just in time to catch Sora.

And Donald. And Goofy.

Ajax isn’t there for some reason. Well, he is. Kinda of. His heart’s all fuzzy on her radar, for some reason, and no one seems to be talking to him. Both Ienzo and Ansem the Wise are there more clearly, though. 

“Are you leaving now, then?” she asks.

“Yep!” Sora says cheerfully. “We’ve got worlds to save, Heartless to fight. And I’ve got to find Riku.”

“Again,” Donald mutters. 

“You know you could use your phone to talk to him, Sora,” Ienzo says, with the air of someone who has explained this multiple times. 

“But he won’t answer! So I’ve got to go find him myself, so he can tell me about what he’s looking for me for.”

“Hm. Good luck with that.” If Skuld knows  _ anything _ about Riku, which is all hearsay and complaints from Ajax mostly, is that he can be rather difficult to find when you’re looking for him. 

“...You’re not coming?” Sora asks. His heart pounds loudly in his chest, for once loud enough to drown the other hearts there out. 

Regretfully, Skuld slowly shakes her head. “I’ve got to keep an eye on Vexen,” she explains. “I’ve bound his and mine fates together, until this is through.”

“Literally?” Sora asks. At her nod, he hums. “Whoa, that’s pretty cool. How’d you do that?”

“Come back quickly and I’ll show you,” she offers. Impulsively, she steps forward and gives Sora a quick squeeze around the middle. 

“See you soon, Skuld,” his heart thumps, “Oh wait...”

Skuld laughs. “See you soon, Sora. Donald. Goofy.”

“Good luck with your quest, Sora. May you find Riku without much trouble,” Ansem the Wise’s gravel voice booms. 

“Thanks!”

“May your heart be your guiding key,” Skuld whispers. Low enough that she can hear herself, as the three hearts speed away. Presumably to their Gummiship, to take off and explore. 

As far as the stars will take them. 

Once they’re gone, Ajax’s heart fizzes, returning to its normal clear song. A collection of melodies, much like Sora’s, but different in that there aren’t multiple songs playing the same time, but instead certain motifs repeated again and again. All mixed together to make something entirely new. 

To make Ajax. 

 

“Ajax!” Ienzo’s heart nearly jumps out of his heart from sheer surprise. “Where did you come from?”

“Illusions can be pretty handy, sometimes,” Ajax offers. 

Oh, that explains why his heart is less fuzzy now. Makes sense. 

“Hey, Ajax.” Skuld turns her head in his direction. Tilts her head as well, feeling the chunky goo in her hair slap against her shoulder. 

Ugh. Yeah, she needs to do something about that. Feels all nasty. 

“Yeah, you  _ really  _ need to wash that out. You can use the tub near where I’m staying...that okay, Ienzo?” 

Ienzo startles at the question. “Of course! It’s your bathtub to use and let others borrow.”

“Ienzo...” Ansem the Wise’s attention turns to Ajax. “Who is this young man?”

“Oh, this is Ajax. He’s been quite helpful with helping me understand how replicas work on a cellular and magical level.”

“Yeah, so I’ll see you later?” Ajax interjects. From her place next to him, Skuld can feel his shoulder move as his hand comes up to flicker in some gesture. 

“Of course. I’ll be in the lab again,” the young man says, his heart humming with...interest? 

“I’ll be there,” Ajax promises, before turning to usher her away, patting at her arm. 

She follows him carefully, staff out as always, to catch any possible non-living obstacles her senses would not. 

Muling over this connection she’s heard only a glimpse of. Between Ajax and this Ienzo. This Ienzo Vexen had talked so proudly about. (At least from the tone of his not-heart, he was proud. She thinks.)

Hm. What could it mean?

 

The tub Ajax leaves her to is nice enough. Definitely serves well enough in getting her hair clean of the gunk, under the faucet. 

But no actual bath, not yet. Not when she doesn’t have any spare clothes. Clean hair will have to do for now. Once she’s finished with that, she opens the door. Settles down on the floor next to it. 

Waiting for Ajax’s return. Which he does, quite promptly. 

“I borrowed this brush from Dilan,” Ajax explains, heart lowering as he settles on the ground behind her. “He’s got a lot of spares.”

“Oh right. Let’s get started then.”

 

Brushing through her hair  _ hurts _ . She hisses in surprise. Thinking on it, she’s not sure why she expected any differently. It did dry all funny, after all. Stuck together in knots.

The brush pauses. 

“No, keep going,” Skuld says, leaning her head back so it’s closer to his hands. And he does. Keep brushing, she means. And starts talking. 

“You should have asked one of us, before telling him everything,” Ajax says.

Underneath her blindfold, she narrows her eyes. “I told him only what was useful to know. Nothing about any of you.”

Silence. Just the sound of him moving the thick brush through her hair. 

“...That’s not what I meant,” Ajax says quietly, almost into her ear. “Just...you’re not alone anymore, Skuld. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Right.” So much sarcasm in that single word. 

Ajax manages a few more strokes before speaking up again. “You don’t act like you do, sometimes.”

“It’s easy to forget, once you’ve been alone long enough.” But enough about that, she thinks. More about you, and less about me, how about it? “Ajax, why didn’t you tell Vexen earlier about who you are? I was trying to give you time to.”

Skuld digs her teeth into her lip, biting back a shriek as he hits one particular nasty cluster of rats. 

“I didn’t feel ready. But I guess I’m going to have to, sooner rather than later.” His heart whispers worry, hitting one discordant note in its overall tune. “Especially if I’m working with him and Ienzo to make new replica bodies.”

There’s two topics she could pursue here: Ienzo or the replica bodies. She picks the first, knowing how sensitive Ajax is about replicas generally. 

“Ienzo, huh? What’s he like?” Skuld pulls up her legs, hugging her knees to her chest. 

She can almost  _ feel  _ the squinty-eyed stare Ajax is sure to be lasering into her back. “Why do  _ you  _ care? You never did before.”

Her heart burns a bit at that. But it’s the least she deserves really, from how she acted towards him before. “...I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I said, I’m sorry. How many times do you want me to say it?” Skuld wrinkles her nose. This isn’t going the way she wanted it to at all... Why does this have to be so hard?

“I mean, I was wrong. And I’m sorry about what I said to you.” She thinks of a certain bright-hearted boy, who didn’t hesitate for even a second to reach out to the woman he had quite literally landed on top of. Starry-eyed and asking for advice, thinking so highly of her...wanting to be her  _ friend.  _

(She’s never had many friends.)

Her next question...it has to be reaching. Has to be impossible. But she has to try anyway, if only to live up to the glossy picture Sora apparently has of her. Try for the people she had begun to miss, in her separation from them. “Is it alright, to be friends?”

Skuld breathes through her nose, waiting for the inevitable denial. 

 

“...Sure.”

What? He said yes?

“What?”

“Um. Sure, we can try being friends. Just don’t be mean to Namine or anyone else like that again, otherwise your apology doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Just because I said sorry?”

“You asked too,” Ajax clarifies, “Saying sorry is really important, though.”

“Oh.”

Skuld never knew it would be that simple.

“So, what’s Ienzo like?”

This time, Ajax answers her. 

“Ienzo...he’s kind. Smart.” A clack as the brush is put aside on the hard ground. Ajax thinks a bit more on the subject, fingers gently tugging at her hair. 

Skuld lets him, quiet as she waits for him to say more. 

 

“Ienzo...he knows a lot and whenever I don’t understand, he’s willing to explain it to me, in a way I  _ can  _ understand. It’s great. And he’s got a nice cheekbones, if only he would move his hair out of the way...”

“Ajax...do you have a crush on him?” Skuld doesn’t bother holding back the wide grin spreading across her face. 

“No! Um. Maybe?” Ajax squawks, quickly pulling his fingers free of her hair. 

“Are you going to do something about it?”

“I can’t! Vexen would possibly kill me, Aeleus would maim me, Dilan would  _ definitely  _ kill me, and Ansem the Wise would stomp on my corpse! I would  _ die. _ ” He waves his arms around frantically. Skuld knows this from him accidentally thwacking her in the back of the head with one hand. 

“Calm down!” She twists around, reaching out to grab at his hands. Pulls them down into his lap, with her hands on top. “Fine, you  _ don’t  _ have to do anything about it. I was just curious.”

Ajax lets a relieved breath, hands loosening and becoming unclenched in her grip. “Yeah, it’s just...” He leans forward, until his breathing is the loudest thing in the room, louder than even his heart. No stinky breaths in her face, thankfully, but still obnoxiously noisy. 

“I’m a frickin’ replica, Skuld,” a bitter laugh, as he continues, “Vexen made me to be a tool, to be  _ used _ . I’m fighting that, but...what if I go back to that? What if I’m not a person to...”

Not a person to Ienzo. And that, right there is the most important part of these worries, Skuld feels. Because it kind of is a valid worry, especially considering Ajax’s past (untalked about) experience of being a replica among his creators. 

“I’ll figure out if he’s safe or not.  _ We’ll  _ figure it out together. Because that’s friends do, find out all the secrets they can to fix the broken things.”

(Like I did with Ephemer. With Ventus. With-.)   
“...thanks, Skuld. I appreciate it.” Ajax returns to sitting upright, pulling his hands free. “Is it okay...if I braid your hair?”

Skuld considers it, before slowly nodding her head. “Sure. Go ahead.” She turns around, once more presenting the back of her head to Ajax’s clever fingers. Who goes to work right away, separating her hair into a three main strands to weave together. 

Feels...nice, actually. How long has it been since she’s had so much skin-to-skin contact with another person? Feels like forever. Feels  _ good.  _

She closes her eyes and rests. Enjoys the slight scraping at her scalp, the pulling of her hair, all of it. 

For a moment, there is a peace.

 

* * *

 

A peace that ends once the brushing is complete. Once he’s done, Ajax stands up. “Gotta find Ienzo,” is his explanation. 

She nods. A silent permission. She hears the tromping of feet, as he heads away. Presumably towards the stairs, down to where Vexen and Ienzo are apparently working. And maybe where Ansem the Wise is too? She’s not exactly sure on that point. 

But he can go there. There are other places in this castle Skuld would rather keep an ‘eye’ on.

Like the outside wall, for example. 

This place can’t be very safe, if Sora  and his friends can just swoop in with their Gummiship unstopped. Those guards...they could probably use someone else to watch for possible foes. Especially someone with the ability to hear hearts. 

All right. Decision made. 

Now, the only question currently in mind...where was the front door again?

 

The door takes. Too. Much. Time. To actually find. But once she does, it’s a breeze, to go past the guards, tap tap tapping away until she finds the wall. The guards don’t try to stop her, which is good. Skuld’s not in mood to be stopped. 

She settles down, against the wall. Sits down and remembers. In all of the clarity she can muster, a series of events that have led her here. Of a Darkness at the end of the World. 

()

Of course Luxu would be here, at the edge of the Darkest currents. Where else would he be?

Standing at the end of the World. Staring out into the Darkness. Waiting...for what?

“Hello. Skuld, was it?”

“Luxu,” Skuld replies, glaring at him. Not that he can really tell, still looking away from her, staring off into the waves. 

“...you here for something?” Luxu eventually lowers himself to asking. 

“You’re the cause of this. Of the  _ Sins,  _ of  _ everything _ ,” she almost snarls. 

Head tilt. “In a way.”

“What do you mean,  _ in a way _ ?  _ You  _ did it.”

\---iled m--

“No, you can thank your precious  _ Foretellers  _ for causing the Sins,” Luxu spits. 

“The Foretellers? But the Sins aren’t anything like the Foretellers! They’re...” Skuld waves her hands, helplessly looking for the correct words to define what the Sins are. 

“Inhuman? Uncontrollable? Destructive?” Luxu laughs, shaking his hooded head. “They didn’t come back right. I...failed. Just as much as the Scapegoat did. A mistake.”

 

_ A mistake.  _ The words echo inside her head, leave her brain shivering. 

“So the World ending...happened because of a  _ mistake _ ?” Skuld shouts. Her hands are shaking, her Keyblade in her hands is shaking. “ _ Your  _ mistake?”

A laugh, a cough, something erupts from Luxu standing at the edge. Causing his entire body to shake. “You could say that. A mistake I was trying to fix.”

“ _ How _ ?” She bites out, mind going back to worlds shattered to pieces, ruined in an unstoppable rampage. Irreversible damages. 

“You think I’m going to tell you? As if. No, you can figure it out. Figure it out and tell me, why don’t you?”

Skuld considers this. She doesn’t really want to play this game, she wants  _ answers _ , but it seems that playing  _ his  _ game is the only way she will get those answers she seeks. 

(Ephemer always wanted answers.)

“Will you tell me if I’m right?”

A shrug. “Sure, why not? Hit me.”

Skuld nibbles at her lip, rubs her fingers together. Gathering her thoughts, her thoughts that she speaks out loud. 

“The pieces of you, the multiple Luxu, I thought they were just more Sins wandering about. But that wasn’t true, was it?”

Luxu doesn’t answer, head cocked to one side as he watches her. Waiting for her to continue. Which she does. 

“No. They had a goal, they hunted Princesses of Heart, for their Light. But why? Seven pieces of Light...something important about that. And others, I found thirteen of them in the Realm of Dreams, drifting through the Dark.  _ Searching  _ through the Dark...”

“Go on, why were they doing that?” Luxu prods. 

Why? Seven Lights and Thirteen Darknesses...why is that fam-

Oh.

_ Oh _ . 

 

“The X-Blade,” she whispers, in the air of revelation. “You were trying to forge the X-Blade.”

“Bingo! Got it one!” He points right in her face, before clapping his hands. “I wanted to reforge the X-Blade with its original pieces, use its power to fix everything right up. To bring  _ him  _ back.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Luxu’s hands fall to his sides, tightening into fists. “I would have succeeded...but those  _ abominations,  _ they messed it up,” he spits. He shakes his head. “Should have killed them, once it was clear the Scapegoat wasn’t coming back to make use of them. Should’ve, could’ve, doesn’t matter now. I  _ failed. _ ”

Abominations, what? Skuld puts that aside for now, focusing on the bitter note of despair in the Keyblade Master’s voice. “You failed,” she agrees flatly. “And you destroyed  _ everything  _ with your failure.”

A laugh. A cough of a laugh. “I have, haven’t I? The World, what’s left of it...it won’t last long now. Just a little longer, and it’ll all collapse back into the Dark it came from.”

“I have to stop you.”  (Ephemer would have stopped you. My friends would have been able to do it.)

“You’re too late to do that. Too late to do anything but clean up the last of my mess.  _ Me _ .”

Skuld steps back. “What?”

 

“You lust for death, don’t you? Let me  _ give it to you _ !”

Luxu suddenly seems so much taller. His cloak moves unnaturally, until it’s shredded by what grows underneath. 

A horned beast, with three goat heads. With a scorpion’s stinger hanging high overhead, tip glistening with a dark venom. And many, many clawed hands. “ _ LUXURIA!” _

Skuld sniffs. Smells like...goat. Stinky goat. Yup. “Lust? Do you know what happens to the lustful?”

“ _ ENLIGHTEN ME, ------IDIOT.” _

Her smile is a stern, harsh thing. Acidic. “They get their  _ eyes  _ plucked out.”

She calls Starlight to her hand, pointing in the monster’s direction. “Faith!”

Skuld breathes, and swings herself into an attack, towards the temporarily blinded creature. Aiming for the eyes. 

 

A terrible beast, Luxeria is. 

Good thing Keyblade wielders are practically made for fighting terrible beasts. She fights, on and on, until at last she fells it. Despite the numerous stings of venom, the bites, the headbutts...she keeps going until it falls over dead. 

Successful.

Only to fall down right next to her victim. 

A whisper, a whisper of a ghost. “ _ O Killer of mine, bear the burden: Lust.” _ The beast fades back into the Darkness from where it came, never to return. 

With her laying face-first in the dirt. With much effort, she pushes herself up into sitting position. To see the waves of the Darkness before her. 

 

Waves of Darkness, as far as she can see....barely. Her vision fades, growing dimmer and dimmer until there is nothing but the Dark. She blinks, but sees nothing but black. 

“I guess that’s the price. For killing Luxu,” she says out loud, to no one. To no one but herself. 

No one will find her, in this deepest part of the Realm of Darkness. But that’s alright. She came here to be lost, after all.

To never be found again.

To die. 

“Lauriam, Brain, Ventus, Ephemer,” she breathes. Her chest hurts, her heart hurts. Down here alone...she’s doomed. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she promises. “Soon as I can make it.”

()

At the end of her recalling, Skuld frowns. If that’s what she was going to do...why isn’t she dead, then? What happened after that? Who found her?

She searches her memory, but it isn’t there. Not even the fuzziest of thoughts. A hole, scooped right out of the middle of her mind. A space she wouldn’t even realize was gone, until she went looking for it. 

“What the hell,” Skuld says out loud. Loud enough for the guards to hear. 

“Is something wrong?” one asks. Aeleus, Skuld thinks his name is. 

(Oh, nothing much. I’ve just lost a memory, or two, and I’m sure it’s an important one at that.)

“I’m fine,” she calls back, waving a hand dismissively. “Just thought of something.”

Yeah, thought of something, all right. But what?

That someone’s been messing w-

...

Her hand goes up her forehead. To her aching head. She grimaces. Agh. Sudden flash of a migraine.

What had she been thinking about, again?

 

It’s awfully warm here, the sunshine constantly beating at her skin. Maybe she should find a place with better shade. After running a quick safety check, of course. She squints her eyes, under her blindfold, focusing. 

Listening to the hearts in her vicinity. The guards’ hearts, soft and almost background to her ears. Not...weak, exactly, but not overwhelmingly forcing their music upon the world like every Keywielder’s heart does. 

Normal. Perfectly normal. 

She focuses harder. Anyone nearby? No. No. N- wait...something fuzzy. Up above. 

“Someone’s here.”

In their credit, the twin guards don’t hesitate, moving directly to pull out their weapons in defense.

“Aw, you ruined my surprise.”

Someone, male-sounding, jumps down from overhead. Skuld would say from the rooftops, but she’s not sure exactly. Just that he’s here now. 

A Nobody? It’s difficult to tell. There’s certainly something  _ off _ about his heart (if he has one), that fuzzes in and out of existence. Difficult to track. 

“Xigbar!” One of the guards barks out. 

“Good to see you again. How’s life been treating you? Conducting any more heart experiments in the basement?”

“You know we wouldn’t do that,” the other guard says firmly. 

“Do I? That’s what happened the first time, after all.”

The talking gives her a  _ bit  _ more time to set up her attack. Her fingers wiggle, building up Soul-silk to be soon released. 

 

The silk shoots out from her fingers, as usual. As planned. What’s  _ not  _ planned is a sudden gust of wind blowing out her web into an uncontrollable blobby mess. What? It’s a perfectly still, sunny day. Where would wind come from?

Unless...one of the guards...he’s using magic. Wind magic. Completely incompatible with her weaving. 

A laugh. “Hah!  _ Some  _ teamwork of yours, am I right?”

“Shut up.” Honestly, Skuld’s not sure if it’s her or one of the guards that snarls that command out first. Only that she’s  _ angry _ , and reaching. 

Deep inside for her second go-to option: Thunder. The magical lightening crackles and booms yet fails to catch the enemy. The enemy who keeps popping in and out of reality to level zippy shots of magic darts in her direction, too quickly for her to properly track his ‘heart.’ Which was difficult enough to catch  _ without  _ him running around like a demented fluke. Or having to dodge those dumb darts every few seconds. 

“-need to stop.” There’s a guard next to her. When did that happen? That’s what she gets, being too used to hearts prompted into loudness by continually being near a Keyblade. Misses the more common quiet hearts in the process. 

“We have to catch him!”

“We can’t this way. Your Thunder is making it difficult for Dilan and I to make it onto the field to properly fight.”

What she  _ doesn’t  _ say: I have nothing else to fight with, against an enemy out of my Keyblade’s reach. I can’t see, to use ranged attacks. He’s hard for me to track. 

What she  _ does  _ end up saying: “Can you get him close to me? So I can hit him?”

“...We can try.”

“Alright.” She flicks her fingers, releasing the ongoing Thunder spell out into the void. Letting the killing electricity die out. “Go for it.”

And they do. The guards, she means. But the enemy seems to go for it too, flashes of existence growing quicker and quicker, until she can barely tell he’s still here in the courtyard at all. Only his annoying shots make it clear he hasn’t moved on. 

The guards fight, with earth moving beneath her feet (challenging her stance) and wind breathing past her ears (challenging her silk). 

She can’t fight like this. 

(Why try fighting with  _ anyone _ ? They’ll just fail you in the end.)

“Enough,” she finally decides. Tries her silk again. But this time,  _ who cares who gets hit? _

She stretches out, all of her, all of her thread and ties it all together. There’s shouts, yells, but they don’t matter, only ending this does. 

“ **_DOOM_ ** .”

SIX. (Wait, what?)

FIVE. (Did she mean to do that?)

FOUR. The struggling gets louder. Wills pressing against her own, trying to call off the death kell over the heads.

THREE. “No.” Who’s saying that? Is it... _ her _ ?

TWO. Her brain hurts. The shouting becomes words. “-on’t do this!”

No. She can’t do this. Skuld reaches out, with a shaking hand. Her Keyblade’s gone, she notices faintly, in the back of her mind. Not coming to her call. Snaps her fingers and reality rushes back to her. 

The Doom ends. She falls to her knees. 

More yelling, now words. One of a strange accent she recalls barely, the Nobody who escaped her before. “Xigbar, I have him!”

“Now!”

Then the two are gone, Luxord and Xigbar. The guards are out, pressed into earth, their hearts faint. 

She nearly  _ killed  _ them. Nearly killed them because she was getting impatient. 

What the void is  _ wrong  _ with her?

(“Lots of things are wrong with you. And it’s perfect!”)

Her head pounds. Have...him. They have him. Luxord talked about getting Vexen back before, it is ‘him’ they have?

 

What she said to Sora about her and Vexen is all too true. Their fates are tied, tied until either Xehanort is defeated (since she’s kept up her end of the deal, telling Vexen all of that information) or until one of them is dead. 

She takes a deep breath. 

Reaches inward, to check the bond. To see if those Organization members have gotten Vexen back. Checks and  _ sees.  _

“Oh no.”


	23. Pyrite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ajax takes after his mentor in more ways than one. Ienzo observes and doesn't quite see all. Xigbar follows his role: that is, watches and generally acts like an asshole.

Downstairs in the lab is the same as it always is. Well, almost. 

There’s an extra person there. A certain Nobody that Skuld had brought with her. 

One that Ajax’s not particularly eager to see again, if he’s honest with himself. But whatever. He can do this. He worked with Riku, before and now. He can work with Vexen, if he has to. (Though he’d rather not.)

There’s Vexen and Ienzo, at their computers and papers. But no sign of the third person that should be there, the other stranger that just showed up. 

 

“Um...where’s Ansem the Wise?”

“He’ll be here shortly,” Vexen says curtly, turning from his own workplace to face Ajax. 

He’s almost like he is in Ajax’s memories. Almost, as in not at all, except in the same long pointy face and long blond hair. His eyes aren’t even green any more, but a weird yellow-brown instead. 

That pointy face is still somehow different than from what he recalls of it. For one thing, the eyes in that face (never mind that they’re a different color now) are actually looking  _ at  _ him. Not looking him over, not searching for flaws, not looking through him. But  _ at  _ him. 

Meeting him in the eyes.

(Acknowledging him as a  _ person. _ )

The difference is...discomforting. A little. 

Okay, maybe more than a little. A lot, honestly. Different in a way Ajax isn’t really sure how to respond to. 

“Uh, hi?” he tries, with an awkward half-hearted wave. The puzzled face he gets in response almost gets him laughing out loud. Ajax manages to turn that laugh into a cough instead, at the last second. 

“Ienzo has told me you have access to four different individuals as data profiles. Is this true?” Vexen asks, abruptly getting to the point. Well,  _ his  _ point. 

Now,  _ that _ was more familiar. 

Ajax coughs one last time, before straightening up and nodding once in response. He fights the urge to glare at Ienzo, for giving that much away. Ienzo, who’s currently watching this entire situation play out quietly. 

“Hm. You were created to only take in the data of one inserted profile,” Vexen muses out loud. “Yet you managed  _ four.  _ Impressive.”

Out of nowhere, the ‘Nobody’ leans into Ajax’s face. His nose is barely an inch away from brushing Ajax’s cheek. 

 

Ajax can’t help it: he flinches. Yet somehow Vexen doesn’t appear to notice, still peering closely at the side of his face, at his cheeks, his chin. 

“You may have mimicked Xehanort’s skin coloring, but your facial structure is clearly still that of Riku’s. And your eyes...they remind me of...?” Vexen backs up, to turn his head enough to eye Ienzo. “Ienzo?”

“Hey, I apologized and everything. Right, Ienzo?”

“That you did,” the former Nobody supports.

“You killed his Nobody?” Someone else asks, eyes narrowing. “Why are you still here then?” Judging by the man’s sudden appearance, yet no one else is surprised by said appearance, this must be ‘Ansem the Wise.’ 

Deep inside, something in Ajax  _ hisses  _ at the man’s appearance. At apparent anger that Ajax killed his apprentice.

(How dare he be angry, that old fool was plotting to kill his apprentices himself!)

(How dare.)

Ajax flinches. Again. Seeing this, Ienzo steps forward with hand held out. “He did apologize. And it was Axel that drove him to it in the first place.”

“Still my fault,” Ajax mutters, looking down at the ground. 

“I still accept your apology,” Ienzo reminds him. At that, Ajax looks up, to see those warm, warm eyes. He almost smiles in response. 

“I see.” Vexen looks between the two of them. A familiar frown on his face. But he doesn’t let that frown stop him from asking his next inquiries. 

 

“How did you grow so much? You’re a first generation replica, which don’t have the ability to properly mature like you have.”

“Um, I copied Ansem? The Heartless one,” Ajax says lamely. He resists the urge to tug at his braid, or to fold his arms over his chest, keeping his hands still by his sides. No need to draw more attention to the physical similarities between him and the Heartless in question, not more than he has already by merely existing. 

The other Ansem in the room, the wrinkles around his mouth grow deeper. “I would prefer that you not use my name in connection to that abomination.”

(Abomination? Wonder what’ll you think of Demyx when you meet him.)

“The Seeker,” Ajax settles with. “His leftovers got me taller.”

“Did it do so right away, though?” Vexen asks, yellow eyes as sharp as knives. “Or centimeter by centimeter? Or perhaps, in growth spurts?”

“Huh.” Ajax considers the question, searching through his memories. He’s never really thought about this before, about how impossible his existence is, but honestly, impossible people don’t tend to question the impossible. To them, without any other available knowledge, the impossible is normal. 

As it has been for himself. 

“I was  _ Riku’s _ height for a while. Only physical thing changed was my skin tone and maybe my eyes? More magic, than before. And it...” He closes his eyes for a second. “It  _ hurt _ .”

( _ Agony _ . A fire eating him from the inside out, his bones cracking under the strain.

Too much for a single puppet to hold.)

Yet...

“I survived.” Ajax opens his eyes, to look right into Vexen’s. 

“Clearly.” Vexen huffs. 

“No, you don’t get it. I  _ survived _ . I  _ lived _ . I become someone new, that could carry more than I could before. I grew.” He smiles. Just a bit smug. “I’m no longer a replica of  _ Riku _ , because of that.”

(Something more, something a little extra.)

(But still a replica.)

 

“You’re supplementing your form with extra data, that is allowing you to store information from multiple individuals and appears to be the source of your body’s maturation.”

Vexen summarizes the information Ajax just gave him, turning on his heel to pace. “But where did that extra data come from?”

Ajax holds up a hand. 

“Look, I don’t know about ‘extra data’ but I do know that whenever my body started, well,  _ peeling _ ,” little sheds of skin falling off his arm, his bones aching and aching,  _ blood  _ dripping and trailing down his face, “going into the Realm of Dreams helped until I didn’t have that problem anymore.”

“Would it be possible, then, that dreams can act as data does?” Ienzo inserts into the conversation. 

“Seems probable in this case,” Vexen considers. 

“It certainly is possible,” Ansem the Wise at this point cuts in with, “I used dreams to get my code into Sora’s heart.”

“Huh, I had been curious to how your work had been able to make its way into Sora’s heart. Thank you for enlightening me, Master.” Ienzo gives said Master a tiny bow of respect. 

Vexen’s face pinches, looking away from the two. Huh. Maybe they’re not all friends, here? Not Ajax really knows what that means, he’s no Vanitas, skilled at pissing everyone off so they all fight each other. 

“Yes, yes, code is very useful here. But is there possibly another route to take here?” 

Ajax...isn’t exactly sure what Vexen means by that. And before he has a chance to really think it through, Ienzo brings him back to reality with a question of his own. 

 

“Why did you pick the name Ajax?”

(“What’s your name?”

“None of your business,” he snarls, flashing in teeth in the dark. Where no one can see him anyway.)

“Why’d I pick it? Well, I didn’t. Not really. There was a story with a hero named Ajax in it,” Ajax says slowly. Thinking. 

(“What’s your name?”

“...I don’t have one.”

“...Do you want one? I can help.”)

“In the story my teacher told me, Ajax means either earth or mourner,” Ajax explains. “Depends on what word you think it comes from, he said. Or that’s what his own teacher told him.”

Ienzo’s visible eye blinks. “Which one does your name mean?”

Ajax smiles, a bit sadly. Recalling the weakening grip of a once strong hand, falling away. A pulse forever stopped, and blood on his Dark Suit.

“Why not both? A ‘mourner of earth.’”

Mourner of earth, or mourner of the only earth that ever mattered to him. The memory comes easily and quickly, as it always does these days. 

(Terra stands. Carefully, he lifts Ajax’s paralyzed form in his arms. Carries him. 

His teacher is warm. Strong. Sturdy. Everything Ajax is not. But what is his teacher doing?

Setting him down, hiding him from any searchers. Then rising to his feet. “Remember, protect what matters most and you will never regret it.” His teacher stands and makes to walk away. Back towards the direction they had both just escaped from. 

 

“No, no,” only Ajax’s mouth manages to work, all to no avail. “Don’t leave!” he begs in a hoarse whisper. 

Terra glances back, his dark yellow eyes full of strange emotions, a mixture that Ajax will not be able to identify until much later.

( _Regret. Sorrow._ _Pride.)_

(Why is Terra proud of him?)

“They will hunt me to the end of the worlds. You, they will let go, if they don’t find you.”

“But you said you would never go back!”

A grim smile. A Keyblade, dark and heavy, comes to rest in Terra’s grip. “I will not go back. Not alive.”

“No, Terra!”

“ **Mute** .”

The spell takes hold quickly, silencing Ajax’s screams into something more wordless. 

Terra bows his head, until his gray streaked hair covers his eyes. “I’m sorry. But you have to live.”

That’s the last Ajax sees of him, his teacher walking towards his death, back held high and proud. Brave. Unfaltering.

Doomed.)

“I’ll stand here. Keep an eye on things.” Ajax shrugs, pulling out of the memory. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Ienzo says, sounding fairly...sincere.

Ajax feels his ears warm and is never more grateful that his chosen hairstyle has let some of his hair cover said ears. “Yeah, the least I can do,” he repeats.

 

Both Ansem the Wise and Ienzo turn away, to continue their work. Only Vexen remains. Staring at Ajax. Almost... _ awkward.  _

“What do you want?”

Vexen coughs, looking off to the side. Looking...embarrassed. No, it couldn’t be. Ajax’s just imagining things. 

“I wanted to say...you’re quite strong.”

What? What do you say in response to something like that? “Um...okay.”

Vexen mutters under his breath before coughing once into his hand. “What I  _ meant  _ to say is, you are quite possibly one of my greatest creations. Better than anything I could have possibly dreamed of.”

Ajax opens his mouth, ready to say something. Only for Vexen to barrel onward in this strange speech of his.

“You’re appearing to be functioning quite well. You no longer need to attempt to replace Riku, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Vexen...I stopped trying to replace  _ Riku  _ a long time ago,” Ajax interrupts, fighting back a scowl. “Get to the point already.”

“For Lunar’s sake! I’m attempting to  _ apologize! _ ” Vexen yells. Ansem the Wise and Ienzo both very clearly do not look over at now-shrieking scientist. 

“What?” Ajax can’t stop it. His hand goes up to tug at his braid. Almost pulling his hair loose in the process. “For what?” 

“I treated you as less than nothing. For that...” Vexen looks off to the side. “I regret doing so. You are a person, Ajax.”

“Um. I’m a replica,” Ajax reminds him. “Not a real person right in the definition. Which is fine. Really.”

For some reason, Vexen almost looks  _ sad _ , a frown on his face. Strange. Why’s he sad? Ajax is only living up to what he’s known his entire existence. 

 

“Very touching. But I do believe there are more important things to do.” A new speaker. A stranger, suddenly come from the Dark. Ajax whirls around, to see a blond man with a beard. In a familiar black coat. 

An Organization member. An  _ enemy _ . Now it’s probably wrong for Ajax to say this, but he’s relieved. Rather deal with this than whatever Vexen’s up to. 

“Back off, before I make you.” Night’s Path comes easily to his mental call, raising to point at the bearded man’s chest. 

Bearded man raises an eyebrow. “Another Keyblade wielder? My, seems they’re coming out of the woodwork everywhere these days.”

“You’re not backing off.”

“I’ll leave as soon as Vexen joins me,” the man promises, gesturing to the Nobody in question. 

“Again? Luxord, I’m not going back,” Vexen says, stepping up to stand behind Ajax. 

“Well, it seems you don’t get a choice in the matter.” Luxord takes out a playing deck, flicking through his cards. 

Cards that fly out to attack them. Good thing Ajax’s still in the way. 

 

“Drain!” Ajax shouts, and the attacking cards flutter away uselessly. Filling his mana stores, not to the brim, but well enough. Well enough for the hungry illusions he’s used to casting.  

With his free hand, he slings a splattering of Dark Firaga in his attacker’s direction. Cards comes up to swallow up the magic sparks. Each and every one, before they have a chance to hit.

Just what Ajax expected, really. But it buys him time and space, if the man has to use his magic to block every attack. 

Switching between Drain and Dark Firaga, with Keyblade strikes here and there...that should be a decent enough strategy.

At least, until he can figure something else out. Can’t let any cards get the others. Gotta protect the others. But for how long?

(He has an idea.)

(But he has to play it  _ just  _ right.)

“Vexen, your shield!” He calls out, carefully backing up while spreading out his Darkness to keep the enemy back.  

“I’m a scientist! I don’t fight!”

“You’re going to be kidnapped if you don’t! Now!” Ajax reaches down to grab a Smoke Bomb from his belt. Tosses it out in front of him. The Bomb thankfully bursts right away. 

Dark smoke everywhere. Coughing. 

Everyone coughing, because Ajax didn’t warn them. Oops. But better coughing than dead, right?

 

In the darkness, Ajax’s keen ears catch the hum of a familiar shield being summoned. Good. 

“Mega Drain,” he hisses, brushing out his hand in his enemy’s direction. The smoke is thick, but won’t last long. Hopefully the Drain should be enough to distract...!

Now, time for his most important illusion yet. 

 

* * *

Ienzo has to say, Ajax is  _ far  _ better in some ways at taking advantage of the abilities he gained from Ienzo’s Nobody. At least, when the smoke clears enough for everyone to see once more. 

Illusions transform various Dark Firaga bolts into copies of Ajax that rush up to attack Luxord. Only for Luxord’s cards to catch each and every one of them. 

Well, it looks good. But fairly ineffective. Hm. 

“Damn it..!” Ajax scatters more bolts while Vexen keeps his shield up. Ice gathers around said shield, providing another protective covering. 

“Now, I’m usually up for a good game...but this time, I have to cut it short.”

New cards suddenly grow. Or rather,  _ old  _ cards grow. Expanding swiftly to release the Dark Fire caught within.

The next Ienzo knows is an explosion.  _ Pain.  _

 

When he opens his eyes....he’s against a table. 

Even and Ajax are on the ground, and Ansem the Wise is up against the wall. 

Ienzo hadn’t had the wish he could use his Nobody powers ever stronger than this exact moment before. 

He’s  _ helpless.  _

Luxord doesn’t even bother looking over in his direction, as the Nobody makes his way towards the two unconscious bodies right next to each other. 

Rightfully labeling him as a ‘non-threat.’ Not that he wants to fight, yet...Ienzo’s throat tightens. He can’t do  _ anything _ . Not now. 

Not as Luxord holds out yet another card. A card that Even’s body vanishes into. With a satisfied nod, Number X vanishes into a Dark Corridor. Presumably back to his masters ( _ Ienzo’s  _ old masters) with his prize. 

 

Once Ienzo is sure he’s gone, he carefully stands and treads through the broken furniture towards the body that is left behind.

He reaches out, to grasp Ajax by the shoulder. To shake him awake. 

His hand goes through Ajax’s shoulder. Right to a thinner, far bonier shoulder underneath. What?

Before his eyes, ‘Ajax’ shimmers and fades away, leaving an unconscious Even in his place. 

“If Even’s here, then that means...”

Ienzo puts his hand up to his mouth. Taps the fingers of his other hand against the floor. Oh no. The Superior,  _ Xemnas _ , won’t be pleased to have Luxord return with a stranger instead of the Organization’s actual target. 

Which meant a bad future awaited said stranger. Ajax. 

_ Ajax _ . 

“He’s in trouble,” Ienzo breathes. “We have to help him.”

 

**Xtra: The Freeshooter**

There’s something in the air, it seems.

People getting involved in this War that should have never even heard of it in the first place, like the Dandelion girl he grabbed years ago from Ansem’s labs. And despite Xehanort’s delusions, this ‘War’ is nowhere near the center of reality for Keyblade wielders. 

Void, only, what, one, maybe two, lineages have gotten involved? What a joke. How can you call that a war? But less on that and more on the Dandelion that just tried to kill him. 

 

She’s gotten a lot more aggressive than he thought she would, fighting him. Difficult to tell if she remembers him or not, since she didn’t actually say anything that wasn’t an attack spell in his direction. 

“Who would have guessed you would cast Doom on everyone?” He says to himself, shaking his head. The ‘Skuld’ he watched was so much more...passive. She couldn’t even  _ cast  _ Doom. And she’s blind now too. When did that happen?

This was...

 

Unexpected. That’s the word he’s looking for, unexpected. Been a long time since he last ran across something like that. 

People as a whole are predictable. More predictable than they personally think they are. But everything runs in patterns, especially people. 

When people don’t follow the usual path...well, that’s just trouble. 

Especially when this ‘War’ is so close. So many changes in such a short period of time...almost like someone is ‘changing’ the fate that’s meant to be.

Impossible, of course. But hearts are silly and that’s what his is currently feeling. 

 

“ Xigbar, I have him!” Luxord.

Xigbar nods once. “Finally. I was starting to get a little bored.”

Luxord...another oddity. One Xigbar needed to keep an eye on. Rather difficult to manage when he has only one, of course. He won’t have to for very much longer. He’s so very close now...to the end of this charade. 

“Now!” At the last second, Xigbar wiggles his fingers in the girl’s direction. Not that she’ll see it...but it leaves  _ him  _ grinning and that’s the important part.

 

They disappear into the Dark, each going their own path to return to home base. Their particularly dry and dusty place, where Xigbar personally has spent too much time at. He hates to say this, but he actually preferred the World That Never Was to this dust-bowl. 

Oh well. 

All of the members are there, surprisingly. (Except Marluxia and Larxene, for some reason. Hm.) But maybe not so surprisingly, makes sense that Xehanort would want to show everyone else what happens to traitors. Speak of the devil...he comes last. Like he always does. All dramatic. 

“Bring out the traitor to our cause,” Xehanort announces.

There’s a nice stone platform now, in front of their pedestals, where targets can be conveniently placed. 

Luxord flicks out his hand and from it, a card goes soaring. It lands on the platform, expanding into a standing Vexen figure. 

But before anyone can speak, the ‘Vexen’ wavers. Ripples. An illusion! Xigbar hides a grin under a gloved hand. Seems Luxord didn’t get  _ him _ after all...

 

Xemnas states the obvious. “That is not Vexen.”

No, definitely not. The motes of illusionary light clear away to reveal yet another Xehanort look-alike. One with the blue eyes common to their opponents. Glaring up at them. 

Xigbar barks out a laugh. “Well played.” He claps, once, twice. 

Clever of the dunderheads. Too clever. No way one of those ‘friends are my power’ hero wannabes would have thought of pulling this. Another one of those strangers getting involved and messing the plan up again. 

“What is that.” Xehanort, the old one, the  _ original  _ one, says calmly. Too calmly. 

The stranger bristles. “Not a that!”

“It feels like...me,” Xehanort’s Heartless thinks out loud. Up on his pedestal one moment, right next to the stranger, reaching for his face, the next. 

So grabby! Xigbar almost shakes his head. There’s only one way this prickly guy will respond to this overture. 

Arm comes up, whacking the Heartless’s hand back. The stranger springs into action and...pulls out a  _ Keyblade _ to wave in their direction. “Stay back!”

Xigbar whistles. “Everyone’s got one of those these days...hey, Xehanort, when you going to keep that promise and get me one?”

Xehanort says only, “Soon,” gold eyed attention all on the stranger. 

Xigbar shrugs. “I’ll keep you to it.” Even if that means picking up a certain Keyblade off your corpse...

“Keep still, boy,” the Heartless hisses, easily knocking the Keyblade aside. Maybe if the stranger was fresh, it would be a different story. But if Xigbar knows anything about illusions from working with Zexion, it’s that keeping one up for so long under the influence of another person’s magic can be  _ extremely  _ costly. Kinda amazing the stranger’s even still standing at this point.

 

The stranger falls to his knees. Oh, okay, maybe he thought that too soon. Stranger still tries to fend off Xehanort’s Heartless, despite that. Points for persistence, at least. 

Still fails, the Heartless grabbing him roughly by the shirt collar to haul him up onto his feet. Man, the dude’s been especially pissy lately, since losing access to his ‘Guardian’ somehow. Probably related to the Heartless mimicking Demyx, from the way he threw Demyx around earlier.

But what does he care? It’s fun to watch everyone go to pieces. But less so when it’s so close to his goal.  

“He will serve as a suitable replacement,” the Heartless announces, after peering deeply (heartfully! ha!) into the stranger’s eyes. 

“Good.” Xehanort doesn’t ask how cuz he’s in too deep at this point. Easy to tell that he’s thinking it. At least, for Xigbar it is. 

“No! Let go of me!” Stranger tries to pull away. Uselessly. 

 

“Your Darkness...so this is where Riku put the rest of it, hm? The parts of me he couldn’t bear, inside of you...” The Heartless pulls the stranger closer. “ _ Fall into Darkness. _ ”

Darkness creeps up from the Heartless’ hand onto the stranger, who tries to fight back with...Darkness of his own. 

Huh. That could be a problem, if the ‘good guys’ got over themselves and started recruiting Dark-users. But this guy’s probably the exception to the rule. Heck, with his illusions, he probably hid it from everyone else. 

The concentrated Darkness of a Heartless proves too much in the end for the stranger, forcing him into compliance under the Heartless’ touch. 

“He will serve as a another vessel. He holds the Darkness Riku rejected,” the Heartless reports. 

“Excellent.” Xehanort  _ smiles _ . “Complete the process and bring him to me.” He turns to Luxord. “Luxord. We will talk.”

“Of course.” Luxord bows his head. Decent poker face, for all that Xigbar knows he’s shaking in his boots. 

Poof. There he goes, right after Xehanort. And there goes everyone else, fear in their little hearts. Xigbar stays, tapping his boot against his rocky stand. 

He grins, at the Heartless still wrangling his new toy. 

“Ha.” Looks like everything is still going according to plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ajax's gonna have a bad time...


	24. Bird of Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strelitzia considers her new life and how she got that new life in the first place, Kairi has a discussion with a rather rude person, and Larxene briefly thinks about her new circumstances.

Some days, Strelitzia can barely believe that she’s here. Alive. Breathing, with a body of her own. Maybe one day that body will actually feels like hers, but for now, it itches and pinches in unfamiliar ways that she vaguely recalls her original body never doing. 

If she’s even remembering correctly. It’s been so long...

So much of now is different from then. 

 

“Hey, you paying attention?” Elrena pokes her in the forehead, jolting Strelitzia out of her thoughts. Her cheeks warm, as her fingers reach up to rub at her forehead. 

“Yes, I am. Um...what were you just showing me?”

Elrena sighs, an aggravated and loud sound. “Look, I’m going to hand you a knife and you are going to hide that knife where I tell you to. Got it?”

Strelitzia’s eyes widen. “Now?”

“I taught you knife safety and how to use one, didn’t I? You’re ready.” A rather large knife materializes in Elrena’s hand, only to be tossed towards Strelitzia. 

She only just manages to catch it by the handle, not the keenly sharp end. 

A cough. “Larxene.”

“It’s fine, Marluxia. She caught it, didn’t she?”

Strelitzia examines the new knife. Large. Almost the size of her forearm, tip to hilt. The blade shimmers with a contained electricity to it. “Um. This knife’s pretty big for me...”

“Of course it’s large. It’s a  _ seax _ ,” Elrena huffs.

“I believe what she means by that is the blade needs to be smaller, to be able to hide it on her person,” Lauriam says.

Strelitzia only nods, eyes observed in this byplay between her brother and his friend. It’s...different from before. Harsher. More orders framed as requests. Less shared conversation. What happened between the two of them?

“Hm.” The blond takes the knife back. Said knife reshapes herself as if by magic (it  _ is  _ magic) to something much smaller. Closer to a scalpel than the knives Elrena’s been showing her. 

“Keep that in your sleeve,” she instructs. A cold smile dances about her lips. “Stab anyone who  _ dares  _ to touch you without permission.”

Strelitzia nods, moving to tuck the blade in her sleeve. Right before she does, gloved fingers catch her own. 

“Like this.” Elrena’s fingers go into the wide black sleeve. Tugging and pulling, running along the seam. She tears into the sleeve, to carefully fit the knife right along said seam. 

“Rather difficult for her to reach,” Lauriam observers coldly. 

“It’s for emergencies, for when she can’t summon her kama,” Elrena explains, withdrawing her hand. 

“Do you have one too?” Strelitzia asks. Her other hand reaches into her sleeve to pat at the cold metal. 

“Of course.” Elrena’s finger pokes at her own forearms. “Both of them. I don’t use them very often, since I can always just summon my knives...but perfect for just-in-case.”

“What about you, Lauriam?” 

“Of course.” Lauriam pulls back his own sleeve to reveal a sharp blade of his own, one more pink than Elrena’s yellow and blue ones. 

 

“Whoa, you’ve had a knife this entire time?! Scary.” Black-coated shoulders shake in a dramatic shiver. Belonging to a figure that suddenly veers out of the shadows. 

Her brother frowns. “Demyx. What are you doing here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” The Heartless shoots back with. “I carried around her heart, didn’t I? Implies  _ some  _ responsibility on my part, doesn’t it.”

“You don’t  _ do  _ responsibility, mud-for-brains,” Elrena sneers. She taps her fingers against each other, throwing up sparks between them. 

“My  _ Nobody _ doesn’t,” Demyx corrects firmly, thrusting his chin forward into Elrena’s face. “I’m different, if you can’t tell already.”

She snorts. An inelegant, unladylike sound. 

Nothing like Elrena ever did, around Strelitzia. As the two start to squabble, Strelitzia sinks into her thoughts once more. 

 

Again, everything’s so  _ different.  _ Every small detail pounds that realization into her skull, again and again. 

Like her brother. Lauriam hadn’t never been, well,  _ absent _ , but among the Unions, he had had his own life and team-members to tend to, unable to see her all the time. Only to be expected, when the siblings found themselves in different Unions. 

And besides, Strelitzia hadn’t wanted her older brother around  _ all the time.  _ How silly! She could support herself quite well, even if no one had stayed around for long...

(Until she saw them and wondered,  _ what if I became friends with them _ ?)

(Until she died.)

Now, Lauriam was here, with no other duties to take him away. No Union whose quota needed to be filled. Just him and Elrena, and no desire she could see for any other friends to join the pair. 

But...he’s  _ different.  _ Goes by a different name, watches her like a hungry wolf. Never daring once to turn away. Protective, yet something else too, something she can’t quite name...

 

Demyx, in comparison, is far more comfortable to be around. Never mind that he’s a Heartless. He’s warm in way her own brother is not. Welcoming. 

Could you be connected to a Heartless, heart to heart? Before, Strelitzia would have said never. Now...that’s harder to define. 

She’s never played a musical instrument before. Yet if someone gave her one now, she’s positive she could get a nice tune out of it, with her fingers half-remembering a song she’s never played.  

And she knows, with all her heart, that knowledge comes from Demyx. How did she get it, if Heartless are just Darkness from the heart? She doesn’t know. Strelitzia knows so little now. 

Yet she knows one thing about Demyx: he cares. Cares about her.

She’s never had so many friends before! But what if she messes up, and they don’t want to be her friends anymore! Strelitzia gulps at the thought, hand going up to cover her chin and mouth. 

Well, then, she’ll just be  _ super  _ careful not to mess up. Ever.

...Would Demyx leave her if she messed up? 

They did put so much effort in putting her back together, in the Final World...

()

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here. Time passes strangely in a world with no night, only endless bright sunlight. Days, if there are any, pass the same as they always have if they pass at all. 

Until they don’t pass the way they always do. For you see, there are  _ strangers  _ here now. 

 

There are strangers, in this place at the edge of life.  _ Living  _ strangers.  _ Five  _ of them, in this place where the living never come. If anyone would be able to be here, she thought it would be that boy whose heart wanders in his dreams. 

Not five individuals who are entirely different. 

At least one has a Keyblade, she thinks, judging by his Keyblade Armor, colored in various shades of red and black. The others are more difficult to figure out. Yet there’s something about one of the two women, the one wearing purple...

Shh, they’re talking now!

“What is this place?” speaks the one in an orange vest. 

“...This is where the dead people go,” the armored one speaks in a loud whisper. 

“Wait, what? Seriously!?” The black cloaked man waves his arms around frantically in response. 

“Would I lie to you, Demyx?”

“...You’re a terrible liar. But seriously,  _ ghosts  _ are here?”

“The dead here are even less than ghosts,” says the woman in white. “They don’t remember their names or their faces. They often barely remember what brought them here in the first place, at the end of the worlds.”

“How do you know this, Naminé?” ‘Demyx’ asks. 

Naminé’s hooded head tilts downward at her feet. “...I searched for Kairi, wherever I could. Hear stories of this place, among others. But...” A sleeve goes up, to wipe at her hidden face. “People whose hearts are shattered are  _ gone _ . They don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry.” The orange one hugs Naminé gently against his chest. 

“...Perhaps we can find out what time we’ve come back to, by figuring out who the dead are,” the purple woman suggests. She steps off to the side, a step closer to the little star watching them. 

“Hello there.” Does she know that woman? Something about her face, her hair, is so familiar...the woman reaches out and touches her. 

So she answers. “ _ Hello _ .”

The woman’s face pales but she keeps her hand right there, in the stardust of a heart. “...are you Strelitzia?” she quietly asks. Almost a whisper. 

 

That name...the star knows right away, in the remains of her heart.  _ Her  _ name. 

The star falls silent, before speaking again. “... _ You know my name. How do you know my name? You’re not who I’m waiting for.”  _

“Oh.” The purple woman puts her fist to her mouth, sinking her teeth gently into her own flesh. “ _ Oh _ . I’m sorry.” 

“Strelitzia...why is that name familiar?” The man called Vanitas frowns, hand rubbing under a blue eye. “Skuld, how do you know her?”

“ _ Skuld...how are you Skuld?”  _ The memories come in fits and starts, mere fragments of what they once were. Skuld as a girl just a few years older than Strelitzia was herself. 

Skuld smiles, a bit sad. Her eyes don’t seem to be focusing right, the star notices. “I grew up, in a way you never had a chance to.”

Skuld turns to her companions, saying right away, “We can’t leave her here.” 

“Well, technically we could,” Vanitas points out. 

“We don’t know if we can ever come back, Vanitas. We’d be  _ abandoning  _ her.” Skuld eyes’ narrow, glaring in Vanitas’ direction. 

“Hey, I’m not saying we don’t take her.” Vanitas puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m saying we don’t know  _ how _ to take her. She’s even less of a person than I was, for ten years.” 

“He’s right,” Naminé agrees, “I can put her heart back together, there’s enough will for that. But we don’t have anywhere to store her heart. She would just die, again. More permanently this time.”

“We should ask her what she wants to do.” For the first time, the man in orange speaks up, blue-green eyes still attached to the subject of the discussion. 

A collection of sparkling dust, formed in the shape of a star. Just barely noticeable against the background of sky and reflected sky. 

Herself. Or what’s left of her.

 

Skuld reaches out with her hand, brushing her fingers against that ‘star.’ “Strelitzia, do you want to come with us? If we could manage it?”

The heart-turned-star hums in thought. Skuld waits patiently, keeping her hand against the star the entire time. 

“ _ If you could...”  _ Strelitzia starts out with, a bit shyly. “ _ I would like to. I want to find him.” _

Skuld strokes the star gently. “She wants to. So we should try.” 

“But how?” 

“We could put her in something meant to hold hearts,” the orange man offers, “Either me or Demyx.”

Naminé gasps. “Ajax! That’s dangerous. For both you and her, as well as Demyx.”

“But less dangerous for Demyx,” Vanitas says. “Still dangerous. But more Light, less danger. Right, Demyx?” He elbows the man in the black coat. 

“I can try...” Demyx runs a hand through his hair. “But it can’t be for very long.” 

“Define ‘long,’” Vanitas snipes. 

“Not as short as you,” Demyx shoots back. 

“Eat shit and die.” 

“Stop messing around,” Ajax says firmly, arms folded over his chest as he glares at the pair. 

“Make me.” Vanitas flips Ajax off, earning another eye roll. Demyx’s fingers scratch at his scarred cheek, as he carefully looks away from the two Dark-users. Over at Strelitzia’s star. 

“I’ll do it,” he says firmly, golden eyes fastened to the star. “She’ll need a boost to stay together first. Or I might eat her.” 

“By accident,” the Heartless tacks on, like anyone else in this strange crew would doubt his intentions. “The bigger the boost, the longer I can carry her.”

“Alright.” Skuld nods. “I’ll put in as much Light as I can.” 

“And I will bind it all together.” Naminé places the book under her arm, holding out her hand to the floating star.

 

The next Strelitzia knows is Light. So much of it. And Darkness. A lot of that too. But a comfortable Darkness, one that she’ll sink into should she spend too long in it. But for now, she’s safe. Her heart together for the first time in a...long time. 

“ _ Hello there, Strelitzia. It’s nice to meet you.” _

()

Strelitzia rubs her new chest, where her heart sits all safe and sound. 

“Hey, Strelitzia,” Demyx speaks up. “What’s your favorite flower?” 

She frowns, eyes going to her brother and Elrena quickly, before returning to Demyx. Who then mouths ‘they’re talking.’ Which they are. Which is fine, really. 

“Well, my favorite flower is...” she begins.

* * *

 

For once, Naminé is too busy to help Kairi. For once, she’s devoted her attention to helping out Axel instead. 

There are so many people here. Many that Kairi has never known. A few, that Naminé (the one in her heart) knows from her time apart from Kairi. 

Demyx, Kairi knows. But this isn’t the Demyx she knows, lazy and scared for his life. No, this Demyx is fiercer. Darker. Not someone she’s sure about wanting to talk to. Not right now. 

The other girl, Strelitzia is busy with the Nobodies by the names of Larxene and Marluxia. People her heart burns at the thought of ever coming into contact with, people that leave nasty twinges when she thinks about them, that Naminé shivers at the thought of. 

Not nice people. Strelitzia seems kind enough, but the Nobodies...Kairi doesn’t really want to go over there right now. 

 

Which leaves only two people in this strange group that she has no experience with, that don’t seem to be busy. 

_ Dark  _ people. A boy and a taller man (but not  _ very  _ tall). The boy wears a Dark Suit, similar to the one she recalls Riku wearing back when she had lost her heart, dependent on Sora’s eyes for every glimpse of the world she hungrily took in. The man wears armor. A knight, in red and black. 

She takes in a breath and heads on over. 

“Hello? Who are you two?”

The boy looks over first. Every word that spills out of his mouth is a verbal sneer. 

“Oh, you’re the Princess of Heart that went and got herself a Keyblade? Great job.”

Though she can’t see his face at all through his sheer glass mask, Kairi has the feeling he’s mocking her. 

Which, honestly, isn’t that difficult to tell. 

“Thanks.”

“What?” 

“I said thanks,” she clarifies. “I’m glad I have a Keyblade, so I can protect my friends. It’s good to know that I’m doing a good job.”

“That’s not what I meant, idiot,” the boy spits out, stepping closer to her. “You Lights are all the same. All about your precious friends.”

“Vanitas,” the man says. It’s all he has to say, for the boy to turn towards him from Kairi. “We’re not starting fights today.”

“Whatever,  _ Van _ ,” Vanitas snarls, turning to stomp off. Every bit of his posture in doing so reads ‘you’re not the boss of me.’

Van merely coughs. “Heh. Oh well. That could have been  _ way  _ worse.”

 

Kairi frowns after Vanitas’ back. He sounds so familiar for some reason...yet she’s never met him before. Has she?

_ “I’ve never met him either. But he does seem familiar to me too, _ ” Naminé agrees. 

Something about his voice...

And though Van’s voice is not nearly so familiar, there’s something  _ off  _ about him, in the same way there’s something  _ off  _ about Vanitas. 

The two feel  _ Dark.  _ As Dark as one of the Dark Corridors she traveled through a year ago. 

Both insist on hiding their faces from the world. 

Too many similarities to ignore. Especially since she already knows a future version of Naminé. 

“You’re the older version of  _ him, _ ” Kairi realizes. 

Van, the elder  _ Vanitas _ , tilts his helmet at her. He puts his hands on his hips. “Well, clever as always, princess. That I am.”

A gloved finger pokes into her face. Almost poking an eye in the process. “Now don’t tell anyone. Got it?”

“It’s not difficult to figure out,” she says, instead of agreeing. 

“Not really, no,” he agrees, “I’d still like to keep it quiet. If I don’t bring it up or acknowledge it, most of the time people won’t say anything.”

“I said something,” Kairi can’t help but point out.

“I did say  _ most,  _ didn’t I? You’re always been  _ special _ .” Knowing its source, she expects a little mocking with the word ‘special.’ And it’s there. There and not alone. A kind of... sadness taints his words. Melancholy, she decides. Mournful. 

_ Something _ happened to her, in that far-off future, that left a future Naminé desperately doing everything she can to teach Kairi how to fight. And Axel, a little, but all her focus has been on Kairi. 

Something that leaves this man mourning every time he looks at her with his unseen eyes. 

“What happens to me, in the future?” The question leaves her lips before she has a chance to think it through. 

“ _ You die,”  _ Naminé says quietly, from her heart. 

_ Oh.  _ Well, that’s obvious, thinking it through.  _ But how?  _ Kairi thinks back. 

“Do you really want to know, princess?” Darkness weighing heavily on her, making it hard to breath. Yet she steadies herself, braces her body, and the Darkness goes away just as quickly as it came. Like that pressure had never been there at all. 

“My name isn’t ‘Princess.’” She steps towards him. Her palms itch.  

“Hm. That’s right. Princess.”

Kairi resists the urge to shove him. She plasters a smile on her face instead. “Kairi.  _ Kairi. _ Not princess.”

Van snorts in response. “You smile the same fake way she did,” he notes, stretching out his arms up behind his head. “You Lights, always such good fakers.”

“Says the person who won’t tell anyone who he is in the future,” she shoots back, holding her hands behind her back as she leans forward. 

“I have, with not a single lie. Just the truth.” He spreads out his arms. He tilts his head, pausing, before correcting his words. “Well, the way I see it, anyway.”

“Well, tell me the truth then. What happens?” 

(How can she stop it?)

“Look, you don’t need to worry about it for one reason.” Arms lower, back down to his sides. Then he speaks once more. Straightforward. Simple. All matter of fact. 

“You’re not her. You’ll never be her, no matter how much Naminé fawns over you. She’s just lying to herself, if she thinks that.”

 

Kairi thinks of sad, sad blue eyes. Of the girl tucked into her heart. Her heart squeezes at the thought of leaving that same girl with similar eyes just as sad.

“I don’t want to be her. I want to be  _ me _ ,” Kairi says. She raises her eyes to meet Van in the eyes she can’t see. “Why do you care about her?”

Another huff of a sigh. He rolls back his shoulders, his neck, before he speaks. 

“Kairi...she saved me because I’m a shadow of someone she knew. Nothing more.” He shrugs. “Nothing less. She kept me alive because...well, she needed some physically present back-up.”

It would be easy to believe, if she hadn’t caught a flicker of Darkness in his heart at the spoken thought. A truth of sorts, but not the entire truth. Some part of him believes it, yet most of him...

“You don’t believe that.”

A heavy sigh, his shoulders lowering and arms hanging just as heavy as the sigh by his sides. “Yeah. But I wish I did. Be easier. To forget.”

“That’s not easier.” Kairi thinks back to a year ago, of time spent wondering who was the boy in her dreams, who was the missing friend. Of Sora. “Life is better when you can remember everything good and bad.”

Naminé stirs, feeling...sad. But before Kairi can find out why, in the outside world Van interrupts with another scoffing phrase. 

“Life is pain, princess. Anyone who tells you differently is either a fool or wants something from you.”

He lifts his visor just bit. Enough for her to see two eyes, one bright blue and other bright red. Steady on her face. 

“That’s all there is to it, princess. Sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Larxene is used to strange things happening, but this entire situation takes the cake. 

Apparently Marluxia has a little sister who knew them as Somebodies. Apparently Demyx has a Heartless that’s pretty aggressive towards them. Apparently, apparently, there are a  _ lot  _ of things happening. 

Enough to shake up the status quote. Enough that she and Marluxia both want  _ out _ . 

 

However, they can’t escape the old man forever, the two of them. Not when he managed to track them down so swiftly in the first place. 

Marluxia most likely has a plan already, he always has a plan. For as long as she’s known him, he’s been a planner. 

(How long has she known him? Does she know?)

(Does  _ anyone  _ know?)

(Strelitzia knows.)

Yet will it be enough against the Superior, a doubtful part of her mind whispers. It hadn’t been enough last time. 

And last time they hadn’t nearly so many strangers willing to go up against the Superior. Even if it was only for Strelitzia. The place where her heart would constricts at the thought. 

(They have something to  _ fight for. _ )

 

The Superior won’t be merciful when he catches up to the both of them. Good thing they have someone else here that mocked him to his face,  _ laughed  _ in his face. 

She hates to admit it, but for the first time in his miserable existence, Demyx may prove to be actually  _ useful.  _ Other than currently distracting Strelitzia so she can talk to Marluxia in peace. 

Larxene nudges her partner. “Marluxia, got a plan?”

“The start of one,” he smirks.

She smirks back. “Good."


	25. Mandrake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas considers...himself. Past and Future. 
> 
> "remember when your potential was a promise instead of a regret" -a softer world

Why is he here?

Now, that’s a question and a half. The obvious answer is that he’s here because Naminé is here. He and Demyx needed backup and there she was. 

Beyond that, however...

Talking to old ghosts...is not his idea of a fun time. This Kairi, this Princess of Heart...she’s  _ different.  _ Different but all too similar to who he once knew. 

(“Did you love her?”)

Younger, more naive, but still very similar. 

(“You must know how to forge Keyblade armor. You’re wearing some after all!”

“Yeah, learned from Eraqus.”  _ At least, Ventus did.  _

“Teach me.”

Those deep blue eyes, looking at him, _pleading_ with him...well, he doesn’t have anything else to do. 

“Sure. We’ll forge it together.”)

His gloved fingers curl up into a fist, as he looks down at his own armor. From a distance, his armor looks fine. Up close, he can see many dings and scratches across its glossy surface. Weak patches, where he’s had to repair it after various battles against enemies of both Light and Dark.

Not quite as strong as it used to be. 

(None of them are quite as strong as they used to be.)

A flash of anger. He  _ hates  _ this. Being surrounded by people that will never the people he knew, surrounded by countless strangers whose allies will throw him to the wolves without a second thought, because he’s of the  _ Dark.  _

That one’s good thing about the mess of the future, Vanitas supposes. Silly divisions of Light and Dark ceased to matter so much, in the face of the World ending. 

Which makes coming to a place where they  _ do  _ matter, so much more painful. 

 

“Bye,” he says shortly, turning his back on the princess and walking off. His boots doesn’t make a decent noise of it, in this soft grass. Even the crunchy leaves don’t help much. 

She calls after him. He ignores and keeps moving. To Demyx, who’s lingering at the edges of Strelitzia’s activities . Of Strelitzia with the Nobody of her brother and his ‘friend.’ 

The Heartless’ eyes look over right away. “What is it?”

“Want to talk, Demyx?” Vanitas hisses. “I need to be busy right now!” If he’s talking to someone else, then the girl should (hopefully) take the hint and back off. 

Demyx considers the question seriously. One of his hands tugs at his coat sleeve while the other hand goes up to scratch at his scar. “Hm...maybe. But promise you won’t tell anyone!”

“I swear on my Keyblade,” Vanitas says immediately. “And my heart. Not a word.” 

Demyx nods once in response. Steps a bit closer, to talk to Vanitas better. 

“I’m weaker here,” Demyx confesses. The Heartless looks around nervously, before returning his eyes to Vanitas’ masked face. “Had to leave a lot of my power behind to get inside these wards, without ripping them to shreds.”

A secret, given. Only fair if he gives one back. 

“I’m leaving my mask on, because I don’t want everyone calling me Sora,” Vantias offers in return. “That’s all these people think, seeing my face.”

“Makes sense.” Demyx nods in understanding. “Everyone keeps assuming I’m the same as my Nobody, it’s annoying.” He leans forward, lowering his voice even further. 

“I get why Sora was so pissed when I called him Roxas, back then.”

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Vanitas replies. He shakes his head. “People are so  _ stupid _ . We tell them and tell them, but they refuse to change their minds. Like  _ we  _ don’t know what we’re talking about, when talking about ourselves.”

 

Vanitas spits on the ground. 

Demyx peers down at the glob of salvia.  _ Something  _ moves from under that coat hem to rub said glob out of existence, into the dirt. Then he snaps his fingers, lifting his head to look at Vanitas once. 

“Hey, just remembered! I got something, fighting Xehanort’s Heartless.” Carefully, slowly, Demyx pulls out something from his pocket. A glass star, as orange as sunset. 

Vanitas’ breath catches in his throat. “Where did you get that?!” he demands. 

Demyx coughs. “Just said. Xehanort’s Heartless. I stole his minion from him and got this in exchange. What is it? Looks like your keychain...”

(Three glass stars held up to the real stars they mimicked...blue glass cracking under his touch.)

“A Wayfinder,” Ventus’ voice answers, as Vanitas reaches out to the item in Demyx’s fingers. “ _ Terra’s  _ Wayfinder.”

Demyx’s yellow eyes widen, comically large. “Terra? That guy you said Xehanort possessed, to make Xemnas? I thought he was gone.  _ Gone  _ gone.”

“Well, there’s enough of him left that you got his Wayfinder there. Or something that looks like it.” Vanitas’ voice returns its usual gravel. Sounds like he’s been gargling rocks and is fairly deep, at least in comparison to Ventus’ voice. 

“...Huh. Well, I  _ did  _ think that it would take  _ two  _ hearts to create both the Ansem guy and his minion. I guess this,” Demyx holds up the Wayfinder, “is the second heart. Right here in my hands. Crazy!”

Yellow eyes blink slyly at Vanitas. “Wanna touch it?”

Vanitas’ fingers hover over the Wayfinder, over Demyx’s own hand. He shouldn’t. Hearts are personal things and though he doubts that Demyx is  _ actually  _ holding a heart right now, the symbol of one is often just as private.

_ Terra... _

He reaches out, before pausing. No, he won’t do this with his hands covered. Carefully, Vanitas peels his right hand free of its glove, and wraps said hand around both Demyx’s gloved hand and the Wayfinder. Both are cool to touch, the coldness of the familiar Dark. 

He’s Ventus, but not. More Dark than Light, more Vanitas than Ventus. Does he have a right to do this?

“Hello, Terra,” Ventus whispers. The Wayfinder almost hums in response, light reflecting in its glass. 

Demyx sucks in a breath. Vanitas looks up, surprised. 

“Oh, yeah,  _ someone’s  _ there all right. I felt it in my jellies.”

“ _ Jellies _ ?” Vanitas repeats, just a bit incredulous. He withdraws his hand, stretching his glove over it once more. 

“Well, what else do I call it? I don’t have a heart, or a body. Not really. So feelings have to come from something else, my jellies _. _ ”

“...Huh. I guess you have a point. But did you have to call it  _ jellies _ ?”

“I like it,” Demyx pouts, drooping as he cautiously fits the glass item back into his pocket. 

“You would.” Vanitas shakes his head. He smiles, under his helmet. “You were saying earlier...want me to watch your back?”

“...only if you want. I can do it by myself, you know.”

“Yeah, Marluxia and Larxene...no matter how they’re related to Strelitzia, I don’t trust ‘em. Best to have another pair of eyes,” Vanitas says, turning his head towards the Nobodies in question.

Right now, they’re not doing anything  _ too  _ suspicious. But they’re plotting, for sure. Probably the kind of plots that involve multiple people ending up dead. People like himself and Demyx. 

Hm. What to do, what to do?

He could kill them. But he’s tired of killing, of death, of a lot of things. Killing someone in the heat of battle, you or them, that’s one thing. Purposefully executing a person...well, there’s a few individuals Vanitas could picture himself doing that to, but this Nobody pair is not included among them. 

There’s actually not a lot he’s interested in doing to Marluxia and Larxene, interacting with them included. 

“Just keep an eye on them for now, I guess. We’ll figure something out.” He shrugs. 

“Alright,” Demyx agrees, returning his attention to the Nobodies and Strelitzia. 

Vanitas watches too. Watches and waits.

Whatever comes, they’ll be strong enough to take care of it. He’s pretty sure of that much, at least. 

* * *

 

How does his future self manage to find so many strong people to surround himself with?

Vanitas watches and wonders. He doesn’t have much else to, after all, but to watch. 

 

Naminé (as the woman’s name is) reminds him of Aqua. Strong in Light, firm, and ready to take down any who stand in her way. Someone who would have served as a suitable replacement for Ventus, ten years ago, had she been around then. Much like Aqua herself. 

So much  _ Light  _ around here, it’s almost unbearable. He finds himself gritting his teeth and constantly shoving his Unversed down in response. 

He can do it. He’s stronger than this. 

(No matter what his future self thinks.)

(He’s not  _ weak _ .)

(Not like  _ Ventus _ .)

He grinds his teeth. How can he prove he’s strong, when every chance he gets is taken away from him?

(No one wants a  _ useless  _ tool, after all.)

Something about that tree over there...he finds his feet walking in that direction, without knowing the reason why. 

His heart hurts. It always does. 

 

“Hey, Vanitas! Come over here!” The girl,  _ Strelitzia,  _ waves over at him. Welcoming him over, despite the disapproving stares of the Nobodies next to her in his direction. 

Of everyone here,  _ she  _ should be the one that knows better. She’s from Before, and what little Vanitas knows of Before, Before  _ hates  _ Darkness. So why does she keep on trying to be friendly with him?

Spending so much time in a Heartless probably messed her up. Whatever. Eventually she’ll get over it, but until then...Vanitas wanders over. 

“What do you want?” He would glare at her, but his visor doesn’t really allow for anyone to see that he’s glaring at them. Growling his words will have to do. 

“...just to talk.” Strelitzia’s eyes turn away from his own covered ones, as her fingers reach up to tug at her long hair. 

Must be difficult to fight, with that long hair getting in the way. 

“Um. Are you okay?” 

Vanitas can’t help but laugh at the question. 

“Okay...” Strelitzia frowns, tilting her head to the side. She pats the ground next to her. “Do you want to sit down?”

Well, nothing else to do right now. He heaves out a heavy sigh, but he does sit down.  Right next to her. 

The Nobodies start a bit, but the Heartless’ glare keeps them out of it. (Not that Vanitas needs  _ anyone’s  _ help, let alone a  _ Heartless _ .) They soon continue in their own conversation, leaving Strelitzia to do whatever she’s planning, in calling him over. 

“Sooo, I’ve got this book here and I’m curious...do you have a favorite flower?”

The girl has said book open in her lap. Her fingers gently flip through the pages, pages covered in bright colors of every kind. Splotches of blooms and leaves, from what he can tell. “I have a couple,” she admits, when he doesn’t say anything. Holds up the book to show him pictures, pictures of bright blue flowers. “Cornflowers are nice and they...”

 

He tunes out the rest. No need to listen to her babble. 

Vanitas doesn’t know anything about flowers. The closest he’s ever come to a flower are his Unversed of Mandrakes and more recently, Flowersnakes. Flowers are just...plants. Background stuff that he’s never thought about. 

But she likes them. Why does she like them, so colorful and useless?”

(Why does she want to be around  _ him _ ?)

“Well, I thought we could be friends. Maybe. That’s why I want to be around you?”

Shit, he said that out loud. Vanitas groans, resisting the urge to put his helmeted head in his hands. “ _ Friends _ ,” he snarls, bitter and venomous. “You want to be  _ friends  _ with the greatest Darkness you’ve ever met?”

“Well, you’re not the greatest Darkness I’ve ever met, for one thing,” Strelitzia says sensibly, “Demyx is, since he’s a Heartless.”

He growls at her. The sound rumbles in his throat, sounding like the countless monsters he’s barely managing to hold back. 

She flinches. Scared. But she doesn’t tell him to leave. 

“I’ve been thinking...before, they always said that Darkness was a Bad Thing, the worst thing.” The girl chews on her lip. “I thought they were right, but now...I’m not so sure.”

She bites down harder. Much harder and her mouth’s going to start bleeding. Not that Vanitas cares or anything. 

“Now that I’ve met Demyx, who’s a Heartless and very very Dark and people like the other Vanitas, maybe Dark  _ isn’t  _ all bad. If they can be good, why not you? We could be friends, like they are.”

She pauses, looking at him with those huge greenish eyes. Waiting for him to reply. Probably to say ‘yes, let’s be friends.’ But he isn’t  _ weak _ . Isn’t stupid. 

 

Vanitas knows the  _ real  _ truth. The truth the girl refuses to say out loud. That the only reason she’s considering friendship with  _ him _ , is that she looks up to his older self. Only that, and nothing more. 

Stupid, to be jealous of yourself. 

Vanitas has always been good at being jealous of himself. First Ventus, and now this much older version of them both, returned to their rightful wholeness. 

Envy boils in his veins, ready to take shape. Vanitas chokes it back, swallowing the slowly rising bile in his throat. He spits out, “Please, you’re only saying that because you like  _ him _ . The other  _ me. _ ”

“Um.” A familiar voice, one far too familiar. 

The envy is swiftly strangled by a growing embarrassment. Grown by the realization that his older self has been listening to  _ everything _ . 

Agh. 

“I’ll leave,” his future self says right away, stepping away from the Heartless. 

The future...it’s everything he’s ever wanted. But not yet. Not now. 

Not when he has to return to his life in the past first, and fail to become one with Ventus in his attempt to forge the X-blade. Before, that failure, that his Master continues to hang over his head, has only really managed to piss Vanitas off. Now...there’s a possibility of something more, even after such a devastating failure. 

Though he won’t remember...Vanitas still can’t wait. 

It’s going to be...everything he’s ever wanted. 

 

* * *

Man, that’s awkward. Once again, Vanitas is filled with the urge to beat ‘himself’ into submission. Like before, he pushes that urge aside. Kid doesn’t deserve, has ever deserved it, he’s just a bitter bastard who can’t stand reminders of his past stupidity. Yeah, That’s it. Stupid. 

Needs something to distract himself, somewhere farther from a just as embarrassed Demyx hovering nearby and Strelitzia still apologizing to him. 

Vanitas finally holds up his hand, pausing the girl mid-sorry. “Strelitzia. Don’t worry about it. Yeah, it’s fine. Not your fault at all.” He adds the later part mostly for the Nobodies that look about ready to gut him. “I’m just gonna..go over there. Yeah.”

He turns on his heel and marches off. Towards...not the princess, don’t want to talk to her. There’s no Merlin around either. He’s gone right now. Something about a book having problems? Which leaves...yeah, his sister. That’ll work. No awkward there. 

 

His sister’s teaching that...red haired guy, both of them sitting on some log together. Another former Nobody, Vanitas thinks. But one with a Keyblade, as she told him before. How weird. 

But he’s seen weirder. Could be worse. Could be  _ Moon Man  _ with a Keyblade, back at the stupid castle. Or that Superior guy, the one with the terrible void boxes that made his brain fizzle. 

Always could be worse, gotta always remember that. 

“You’re...” Vanitas taps at the ground, as he sits down next to the pair on the log’s end. Demyx talked about this guy, a few times. A...A....Aha! Snaps his fingers. “Lea, right?”

“...Yes. Uh, how do you know?” Lea squints at him suspiciously. “We’ve never met...have we?”

Vanitas shrugs. “Part of me met you. A long time ago. Kinda surprising I remembered that much.”

“...Okay.”

Vanitas peers over at his glowing hands. Catches a glimpse of little shiny sparks flying up into the air as a result of said glowing. Fire, but not quite Fire. Fire with Light mixed in. Or something that’s  _ trying  _ to be that.

“What’s that?”

“Faerie Fire,” Lea explains, frowning at his hands. “It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I mean, I’m pretty good at fire, right? But this stuff’s on a whole other level.”

“Faerie Fire? Oh, what Naminé’learned from Mal- that one fairy,” Vanitas corrects himself at Naminé’s narrowed eyes. 

Honestly, he’s not sure why she’s so keen on discarding that part of the past. The old witch was pretty useful.

Maybe Naminé’s sensitive about having to put her dying, in the end? But he thought she said she never cared about her...

Whatever. She’s either over it or not, doesn’t matter. If his sister doesn’t want him to talk about it, he won’t. Simple. 

 

The fragments of supposed-to-be Faerie Fire linger in the air like phantoms, old ghosts that need to be put to rest. Producing light but not  _ Light _ . The Will behind them is not nearly so dedicated to their formation. 

Easy enough to reach out, to snuff out the gathering Fire with two fingers. His Will is far stronger than Lea’s, in the end. 

It’s stronger than most people’s, Vanitas has found. 

“Are all of you time-travelers this crazy?” Lea complains, rubbing at his hand. “I didn’t think breaking a Keyblades or magic like that was possible, before running into  _ two  _ people that can do that.”

“Nah. Just us,” Vanitas says, rubbing his fingers together. Putting the last of the sparks out. “Learned it from some ghosts and taught it to Namine.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, you heard me right.  _ Ghosts. _ ” Vanitas wiggles his fingers. “Called themselves ‘shiny-gami’ or reapers or something like that, but still ghosts.”

“...Weird.” 

“About normal for us, though,” Naminé says, reaching out to pat Lea on the shoulder. Carefully, slowly, with her hand in the man’s line of sight the entire time.

Said man allows it, though his shoulders do tighten just a bit at the touch. Good thing Naminé withdraws her hand quickly, far faster than she had reached out with it in the first place. 

 

“What do you want, Van? After this is all over?” Naminé asks, hand going down to finger the edge of her skirt. Out of nowhere, it seems. 

But he knows her. Knows her as a sister, well enough to understand the reason behind her asking. They’ve spent so long among the worlds, wandering and living from day to day with no sense of future at all. What was the point of planning ahead, further than that, when everything was ending, when whatever they did failed?

Now...now it’s different. Now there are so many of those he knew dead among the living. 

Failure is reserved, and for once, they stand a chance. 

The future is a possibility, a promise, instead of a lament. 

Vanitas thinks about this, his left hand rubbing at the hilt of an invisible weapon come to rest there. Missing Ache. A reminder, a promise, for what he’s about to say next. 

A wish dear to the heart, just recently realized. 

 

“I want...” he thinks of beating his younger self into the wall, how his younger self and himself thought nothing of it, but the terrible  _ shock  _ Strelitzia and Demyx displayed at the sight. Of three children, not one with a Keyblade, almost slaughtered in Twilight Town for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of Strelitzia’s eyes brightening at the handbook Demyx handed to her, and later of blood dripping down from her nose. Nearly dead and he never realized it, caught in battle as he was. 

A million and one stories, very few Vanitas has actually been able to read for himself, claiming what an awful crime it is to treat children as  _ things.  _ Kids as more than weapons. 

Being able to laugh, and play, without the threat of monsters or certain old men over their heads.  __

Yes. That is what he wants, from this ‘second’ chance. 

“I want it to be better for them.” Vanitas gestures across the field. To Strelitzia, Kairi, and his younger self most specifically. “They deserve better than this. Than a future where all they do is fight.”

(Better than me.)

(Better than to  _ become  _ me.)

Lea is the first to nod in response to that. “Yeah. Kids...they deserve better.” The redhead raises his hand, his red and yellow Keyblade appearing there. He holds the weapon up to eye level, examining the embodiment of his heart, his desires. 

 

Lea chuckles. A dry sound, devoid of any humor. “You know, I never got to apologize to Roxas. For...everything. Or apologize to...” He lowers the Keyblade slightly, letting it disappear. “Someone else. Someone who deserved so much better than...me. Than the Organization.”

Naminé smiles. Small and sad. Not like she’s about to cry, but like she’s been crying, for the longest time. “We’ll make sure you get that chance. We’ll bring them back.”

A promise. Naminé has always been bad with those, throwing her oaths out casually like they’re candy. But Vanitas has never known her to break one of those promises. Especially the big ones about bringing friends together.  

“Yeah. We’ll help. All of us,” Vanitas agrees, hunkering over his lap. Allowing Missing Ache to fall apart once more into familiar shards of glass between his fingers that soon fad away into nothingness. 

Glass. Always comes back to glass in the end, doesn’t it? Glass of the Missing Ache, glass of a Wayfinder, glass of a heart platform...which reminds him, actually. 

“Naminé, I think something needs to be done about Vanitas’ heart.”

Her hood twitches in his direction. “Yes?”

 

“Yeah, he’s got yellow eyes and I...” Vanitas pauses, realizing anew they have an audience. 

Lea almost scoffs. “Go on. You’re obviously connected to that Dark kid. Don’t let me stop you.” The redhead rolls his eyes. 

“Fine.  _ I  _ had red eyes when I was first...created. Only got that color back after Xehanort died. So the yellow’s connected to Xehanort, not Darkness.”

“So he has a piece of Xehanort of him inside,” Naminé says, tapping her fingers against her chin. “A piece that needs to be out, if he’s ever to gain wholeness.”

“Exactly.” Vanitas leans towards her, extending his hand for hers. She lets him take her hand, gloved fingers rubbing the back of said hand. “I know you, you can take Xehanort out without hurting the rest of the heart. You’ve done it before.”

Lea’s back straightens, his green eyes filling with a strange fire. “Wait, she can  _ take out Xehanort _ ?”

“Yes, I can,” Naminé says, tilting her head back to lower her hood. Her hand is still in Vanitas’ grip. “It takes a lot of energy to remove foreign hearts or heart fragments from an individual’s heart, but I can do it.” She smiles. “As long as you don’t ask me to do the removals one after another.”

_ Hope _ , in Lea’s eyes. Hm?

Vanitas frowns. “What do you need to know that for?”

Lea’s hand goes up, to tug at his hair. “I have a...friend. He’s one of Xehanort’s vessels. If she could take Xehanort out of him without hurting him...”

Vanitas can read between the lines well enough:  _ then maybe I won’t have to kill him _ .

“Oh,” Naminé breathes. “You want me to help him?”

“I...I would owe you. A lot. If you could,” Lea stumbles over his words, his eyes pleading. “I know if you can’t do i-”

“I can do it.”

Lea blinks. “What? You would do that for...me?” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “I hurt you, at Castle Oblivion? You would help, even after all of that?”

Vanitas stiffens. He hadn’t known  _ that _ , about Castle Oblivion. His free hand...the man has the sudden urge to slam that hand into Lea’s face. 

Naminé inclines her head. “You still helped me, in the end. Helped me get away from there, if it wasn’t for me. Also...”

Her blue eyes harden, becoming diamonds of cold ice. “No one deserves to have a monster puppet their heart around. I’ll free your friend.”

Lea almost collapses. His hand go up to his head again. “...Thank you. I can’t thank you en-”

Naminé shakes her head at him, holding up a finger. “Save the thanks for  _ after  _ I free your friend. First...” Her eyes go across the field, to settle on Vanitas’ younger self fuming at the edge of the woods by himself. “I have to ask him if he wants my help.”

“I think he will. I would,” Vanitas says confidently.

Naminé shrugs delicately, freeing her hand from Vanitas’as she rises to her feet. “Perhaps. I still need to ask first. “

Vanitas can’t help but grin under his helmet. Finally. Another step to ending this mess once and for all. 

He can’t wait, until the old bastard’s six feet under. Until these kids are finally free, of that shadow on their backs. 

It’s going to be great.


	26. Nephthys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things don't turn out the way we expect. Or, the universe takes it due for losing the Vanitas-Aqua confrontation in the Land of Departure. Among other things.

Naminé leaves Axel to Vanitas’ ministrations as she goes to seek the younger Vanitas out. For some reason, the man appears overly worried about being left alone with her brother. 

Which doesn’t really matter, since she still needs to find the younger Vanitas anyway, but it’s certainly interesting. Something to consider for later. 

“Vanitas?” she calls out, to the trees. “I need to talk to you about something.”

He’s...over by where she’s hiding Ventus. Swiftly, she checks the spell. Yep, the illusion is still going strong...their connection as two halves of the same heart must be stronger than she realized. Enough that Vanitas must be coming to this spot over and over again, drawn to it without knowing exactly why. Her illusion is enough to fuddle that much, at least. 

(Foolish of her. Is not her and Kairi’s connection much the same, so sturdy and strong?)

(Before it all fell apart.)

“What?” he hisses. Pieces of his shadow wiggle into Floods, which then scatter themselves into the trees. Or at least, they would, if their master and creator hadn’t summoned Void Geart to impale each and every one before they have a chance to truly escape. 

He hisses again, one hand rubbing at his upper arm. In pain. 

 

Her own heart aches in response. What a way to live, your heart constantly in and out of existence as a series of monsters. 

She can fix this. She has to. 

“Vanitas...” Naminé tries again. “I can fix your heart.”

“What? I thought Xehanort had to die first, before that?” 

“Yes, but there are steps I can take to...” She wants to say ‘make it easier for you.’ Make it so he doesn’t have to be in constant pain. 

But he wouldn’t believe that, would strike out at her for daring suggest such a thing. Naminé has spent many day with an irritate Vanitas by her side, after all. She knows his pride fairly well. 

(How he thinks.)

“...to make you more useful. Stronger, to fight Xehanort,” she finishes with, even though it leaves her ill for the words to physically leave her mouth. Ugh. 

 

That dark faceless mask cocks to the side. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You have a...piece of Xehanort present in you. Spying on us,” she explains. “It makes it difficult to fight him, when he knows your every move, after all.”

“...I wouldn’t put it past my Master,” Vanitas mutters. “What’s your proof?”

“Your eyes. You’ve seen the eyes of your older counterpart, correct?” Naminé taps at her chin. “How they’re different from yours?”

“Yes...”

“The yellow means Xehanort has marked you. Made a spy of you, where your future self has no such problem.” Naminé lowers her hand to by her side. Please let him believe her, allow her words to work on him. She has only one shot at this, knowing Vanitas like she does. 

 

He considers his words in silence, pacing around the spot where Ventus lies. 

“I can be whole, after?”

“We can try to put you back together. If you’d like.”

The boy gives her a stiff nod. “Do it.”

She blinks, drawing her hand back. “Are you sure?”

“Do. It.”

“Alright. Come over here.” She reaches out to beckon him over, to a nearby clearing where she knows her brother will be able to keep an eye on them. Vanitas follows, slowly. 

Her hand reaches out and Vanitas, the boy, does not back away. Lets her touch him over the heart and waits. 

Naminé manages a gentle smile. “See you on the other side.”

 

* * *

Darkness. Each Dive to the Heart always starts the exact same way, no matter how unique the heart in question is. Darkness, deep enough to drown in. Then, a sudden Light in the form of birds flying away into the Dark. 

Always the same. Never different. 

A certain degree of difficulty is always to be expected, when diving into one’s heart.  Which is why the ease that she slips into Vanitas’ with is rather worrisome. 

 

Stained glass clinks underfoot. A circle like all Platforms of the Heart, all Stations of Awakening. But an incomplete one, huge chunks missing from it. Shards of glass trailing off into nothingness. Faded, dull colors instead of the bright that should be greeting her. 

So much of his heart missing...a miracle that he managed to survive past his own creation. Let alone surviving  _ four  _ years like this, if what the Vanitas she knows told her is true. 

Well, she’s going to fix this. The best that she can. 

“Xehanort!” she calls out, “I know you’re in here. Come out!”

Her boot stomps. “Come out, come out! Olly olly oxen free!”

Nothing. Naminé waits. He’ll come. His pride is too great to allow  _ another _ interloper in his ‘vessel’s’ heart. 

 

“How childish.” He comes out of nowhere right behind her, like the jerk he is. Naminé whirls around and he’s... 

Younger than she expected. Not an old man, all crooked in back, bald and wrinkly. But someone about her age, almost. Taller than her, with long silver hair, wearing a black coat. The kind of black coat she’s known from the very beginning. 

His yellow eyes flash as he smirks at her. “Surprised?”

“You’re supposed to be older,” Naminé blurts out. 

He cocks his head. “I am, aren’t I? I only came to be in this half of a heart later in life.”

“Then why...?”

“I was this age when I brought all of my chosen vessels to this time. Why wouldn’t I look like this?”

An answer. Which...makes sense? Sort of. From what Naminé knows of this vessel slash Organization XIII business. 

She takes a breath. Lets it out. “You are going to leave.”

“Am I?” 

 

“Huh.” Naminé jerks her head over, to see the true owner of this heart standing before her. Present, for once, without his face-concealing mask. With that face she knows so well, looking so very young...

Yellow eyes, just as yellow as the silver-haired man’s that currently standing in his heart, narrow. “ _ You _ .”

“Yes, me,” Xehanort agrees. Almost cheerfully, if any sort of emotion could be attached to the man in the first place. 

“So she was telling the truth. You are here, spying on me.” Vanitas bares his sharp, sharp teeth. “ _ Master. _ ”

Xehanort ignores him, turning to Naminé once more. 

**“** If you remove my heart, there will be nothing that ties him to this time. He will return to the past, and you can do nothing to stop that.” 

Naminé tilts her head. “That’s not my decision to make.” She gestures to the owner of the heart in question. “Vanitas, what do you want?” she asks him. 

Vanitas’ eyes widen. “What do I want?”

“Yes. Should he stay or go?” Naminé pulls at her hair. “If he stays, I can trap his heart for a little bit, but I can’t guarantee it’ll hold forever.” 

Xehanort scoffs. “What does it matter, if he wants me to leave or go? You have all the power here and I know your choice.” He smiles coldly. “You’ll trap me and hope it holds. Foolish. The Keyblade War  _ will  _ happen, and you can only delay it.” 

“You keep missing the point here,” Naminé breathes out. She steps closer to Xehanort, until she’s right in his face. “It’s not  _ my  _ choice.” 

“Well, you  _ are  _ correct about that.” Xehanort stretches out his hand and a strange Keyblade of blue and black comes forth. 

He swings it forward, about to impale to Naminé with it. She braces her herself, hand coming up to cast a Barrier spell, to slow him down. 

 

But in the end, she doesn’t need to. 

“Get out of my heart.” 

Xehanort chokes, looking down at his chest to see the Keyblade tip that’s just gone through it. “You’ll regret this!” he snarls, before tearing apart into a million different pieces of shredded Darkness. 

Vanitas stumbles, falling to his knees. Naminé rushes forward, but he hisses, “Don’t touch me,” even as he tumbles onto his side. His chest moves up and down frantically, heart searching for a connection that is no longer there. 

“You’re going back, to where he got you from,” Naminé says. She lingers a few feet away from him, hesitant in getting closer. Vanitas has always been leary of displaying weakness and allowing others closer when in that weakness, past or future. 

“I can try and use your memories to chain you here a little longer,” she offers, “But you would lose those memories for good once the chain breaks.” 

Vanitas considers the option, his newly red eyes deep in thought. Then he shakes his head. 

“No.” 

Naminé pinches her lips together. “Alright.” 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, she can’t help but think. Never like this. 

 

“...Stay with me,” the boy demands. He’s trying not to show it, but if they were outside his heart, the two of them, Naminé knows his Fear would be bursting out of him in Floods. 

He’s just a boy. 

A boy who has been a part of monstrous things. But still, a boy who spent a very long time hurting and wanting for something that cannot be his. Not anymore. 

An unnatural being who should have never taken form. 

(Like her.) 

Naminé kneels next to him, the stained glass cold to touch. His Station of Awakening already fades at the edges, returning to the time he was stolen from. His time is short.

Vanitas grabs at her hand. Grasping for anything in this unstable place, anything that could provide support a few more vital seconds. Reaches for her right hand, the one that no longer exists. He misses, several times, until she carefully places the nub of that same hand in his. He squeezes, fingers hooked around her wrist.  

“The me of this time will remember, right?”

“He will.” Naminé nods. “You’ll remember everything that happened once you reach the point in time it actually happened.” 

“Good.” He closes his eyes. His hand squeezes harder. “I don’t want to lose anything else.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says helplessly. “I’m sorry you have to go back to that.” 

His eyes half open, watching her. Calm for possibly the first time in his entire existence. “I’ll be whole eventually. That’s all that matters.” 

 

“I’ll make you a promise.” She offers her left pinky.

Vanitas eyes the finger. “What?”

“Just take your pinky and hook it around mine.”

He lets go of her hand nub, hesitant, and sticks out his pinky. Naminé hooks her pink around her and gives it a shake. 

“I promise, that no matter what, we’ll be friends. I’ll make sure you are whole.” 

“Friends...” Vanitas tries out the word, awkward on his tongue. “You promise?”

“A pinky promise is unbreakable. I promise.” 

“Oh. Good.” He closes his eyes again, breathing in and out. Panting for lost breath, like the dying. 

The Station of Awakening fades faster now, patches of colorful glass disappearing into the void of history. To a past that must be, for the present to remain as it is. 

_ You cannot change fate.  _

_ All things stay the same. _

She stays.

Until the very end. 

“May you be free, in the end.”

 

* * *

She wakes up to holding a replica in her arms. A doll, empty of everything that would have left it identifiable as having belonged to someone once. 

It’s not a body, but it’s the closest thing she has to one, for Vanitas. 

Naminé hugs the body. Cold. Lifeless. 

He’s gone. With no hope of return. 

“What did you  _ do _ ?” Another voice demands of her. Alive and gone at the same time. She looks up and Vanitas stands over her. 

“I..” Naminé swallows. Her throat is dry. Very dry. She lowers her head. “I did what I could. But...”

“He’s gone.  _ Xehanort’s  _ last revenge?”

“In a way. Did you know that this Vanitas actually wasn’t from  _ this  _ time, but even further back?”

“So he had to go back.” Vanitas finishes the thought that Naminé offers him. “Had to return so a paradox wouldn’t be created. So the future wouldn’t be changed.”

“Yes, fate cannot be avoided,” Naminé agrees. 

Silence. Then Vanitas raises his gloved hand to the side of his helmet. 

“This isn’t our original worldline.” 

“How did you kn-?” Naminé gasps, right before she sees his face. His now unmasked face. The sadness and regret sitting there, in plain sight for her to behold. 

He turns, shoulders lowered. “So it’s true. None of the people are the same people we knew, and they never will be.”

“But that was the plan, wasn’t it, Van? To change the future?”

A weak scornful chuckle. “I guess so. But it didn’t hit me, until now.” 

Vanitas’ entire body shakes, until it bursts out in a furious round of motion. 

“You know that the future isn’t set anymore!” Vanitas rounds on her. “What if  _ this  _ Vanitas never gets to be whole, because we changed everything?”

He pulls at his hair, almost yanking out the dark strands by the root. “I  _ lied  _ to him,” says Ventus’ voice. “I  _ lied  _ and said it was  _ guaranteed,  _ so he wouldn’t fight me.” 

“I’m just as bad as Xehanort,” he whispers. The words hang in the air, unable to be taken back now that they’ve been spoken. 

 

“I promised,” Naminé says, almost calm.  _ Almost _ . Her hand trembles, a bit. “And I’ll promise you too: I  _ will  _ give him a chance to be a whole person. I’ll fight for it if I have to.” 

Vanitas...doesn’t quite relax at her words, but he comes close. “That’s...good. But is that enough?”

“I’ll make it enough,” she swears, hand tightening into a fist. “It  _ has  _ to be enough. More than enough.” 

Vanitas stares at her, with his eye of red and eye of blue. He nods. “Alright. Be sure to keep that promise, then.” 

“I will.” 

Naminé attempts to rise to her feet. She manages the feat, only to plop back down onto earth a few seconds later. 

He sighs, walking towards her. “I’ll help.” His hands reach out to grip her around her shoulders, pulling her up so she can lean against him in a standing position. 

They stumble forward, a clumsy four-legged machine. Only a few steps, before Vanitas pauses. His hand reaches up to bring out his helmet once more. 

At that point, Naminé’s eyes widen. She glances behind them, at the body lying so still on the ground. “Oh, we can’t leave the replica behind...but how can we carry it?”

“Hm. Wait a sec.” Vanitas gently lowers her back onto the ground, so she’s sitting up right. He walks over to the replica, grabbing onto its arm to drag it forward. The body tips forward to drop its face into the dirt. 

“Hey! Be careful with that, we don’t know how delicate they are.” 

Vanitas sighs, the breath escaping his mouth explosively. “ _ Fine. _ ” 

His next movements are exaggerated, though marginally more gentle. Certainly sarcastic. Naminé decides to let it pass without saying anything. 

He shifts the replica, so its arms are wrapped around Naminé’s shoulders in mimicry of a heartfelt embrace. Tight enough that when he pulls Naminé up onto her feet again, to lean against him, the replica doesn’t fall off. 

Slow steps bring the two of them to Naminé’s students. As well as to a spot where she can see the shimmer of where Ventus sleeps. Axel looks up from where he’s showing Kairi a trick with his Fire. 

“Hey, where’s the kid?”

Before she can even manage to mumble out an answer, an excuse...

 

Everything shakes. An earthquake, that nearly causes Vanitas to drop her and for everyone else in the area to stumble. 

“Hey, someone’s trying to break through!” Demyx’s face screws up, as he moves his fingers of parody of someone playing a guitar. Or a sitar, as it were. 

Manipulating his Darkness outside of this Merlin-created zone, presumably. Keeping the enemy out. “Hang on!”

Perhaps, had he not been so distracted, the Heartless could have avoided what happened next. But unfortunately, he  _ was _ distracted. 

A pink scythe materializes. Vanitas lets out a choked cry, but moves too late. Or, rather, the weapon moves faster. As befitting one known as ‘the Graceful Assassin.’ 

 

Three hits to the back cause Demyx to stumble forward. Three hits made by a very familiar pink scythe. Demyx, being a fairly sturdy Heartless,  _ might  _ have been able to survive that attack in one piece. Might have.  

If not for a series of knives thrown right into his center mass, buzzing with lighting. 

The Heartless glances down at his own chest, where the knives now reside, before looking up at the perpetrators. 

“Huh. I guess you got me after all,” he says, shadowy wisps flaking off of his lips with each word he speaks.  “Always thought you would.”

Marluxia says nothing, yellow eyes careful not to look away from Demyx’s own as he walks to stand before the Heartless. Larxene says nothing as well, rubbing her finger along a long dagger. Much like the ones currently in Demyx’s chest. 

Demyx heaves out a long sigh, and the force of the ‘breath’ leaving him is enough for his form to completely evaporate. Gone, Dark streams reaching up for the sky. 

 

A scream.  _ Strelitzia’s  _ scream. “No!”

Vanitas’ cry is just as loud. “Demyx!” His fists crackle with Dark Fire. Naminé finds herself pushed aside, on the ground once more, as her makeshift crutch rushes ahead. 

The building Dark Fire releases from his hands, to shoot at the Nobodies. Only to negated by Larxene’s small balls of Thunder. 

And before Vanitas can reach them, the pair vanish into the Dark. 

Taking Stelitzia with them.

“No!”

“Strelitzia!” Naminé cries out. Her hand reaches out uselessly, grasping at the air for someone who is no longer there. 

_ Failure _ . 

(You were supposed to protect her.)

(Yet you’ve never been very good at that, have you?)

 

The walls of this realm ripple, as whatever Demyx had been keeping out rips its way through in an explosion of Darkness. All three of them. 

“Xehanort!”

One’s appearance is familiar, the Xehanort she met in Vanitas’ heart. The others she knows of merely by reputation. As well as the fact that one of them looks pretty similar to Ajax. The Heartless and the Nobody. Ansem and Xemnas. 

“Where is Vanitas?” the younger Xehanort demands, his strange Keyblade out and pointed at the ground. 

Vanitas lifts his helmet off his head, throwing it off to the side almost carelessly. Not like there’s a pound of calculated arrogance to each and every move he makes. He bares his fangs, all fierceness and scorn. “Right here.”

Slowly, carefully, he stretches out his left arm. Curls his fingers in a lazy beckon. 

“Come and get me. I  _ dare  _ you.” 

Naminé can’t help herself. She cries out, “No, Van! You can’t!”

What she doesn’t say is this: you swore you’d rather die than go back. And I know it’s selfish, but...

(I don’t want you to die.)

(I don’t want anyone I love dying.)

(Not again.)

He turns his head to the side, just enough so she can catch a glimpse of his red eye. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll come back. Just get everyone out of here, so I can meet you later.”

What he’s not saying, what she can tell under the spoken, her shoulders relaxing: I know I said I would rather die. But I won’t leave you. 

(He won’t die.)

(He won’t  _ let  _ himself die.)

(He won’t leave her.)

One of the Xehanorts scoff. The Nobody one, she thinks. “Are you sure of that,  _ Vanitas _ ?”

Vanitas laughs, bringing out his Keyblades to his hands as he holds them out in by his sides. One black as shadow and the other clear as ice. Both shimmering under the lowlight this pocket in space provides. 

“I made a promise, didn’t I? And unlike certain people I know...I  _ keep  _ my promises.” He laughs again. “Come on. Hit me.”

 

One smooth gesture from Last Requiem and a large Dark Barrier comes up. Meant to serve as an arena, almost, to keep the enemy away from them. In with Vanitas. 

Giving them time to run. She doesn’t  _ want  _ to run, to leave him behind to his nightmares in the flesh. 

However. 

Naminé can’t even stand. Let alone cast a single spell. Axel and Kairi...they’re stronger than they once were, but still not strong enough to go up against one Xehanort, let alone a whole pack of them. Attempting to help Vanitas will only make his sacrifice worthless. 

“Axel.” The redhead’s attention snaps to her. “We need a way out of here. Can you still make Dark Corridors?”

“Wait, we’re going to  _ leave him _ !?”

“Axel, we  _ can’t take  _ them. Vanitas  _ knows _ that. He’s fighting to buy us time.” Naminé’s eyes go over to the Barrier once more, to the Fire rapidly building up inside of its bounds. 

“Besides, he won’t die. We can save him later.”

Later, later, later. Will there be a later? She can only hope there will be. 

(There usually isn’t, in her experience.)

“What if there isn’t a later?” Kairi asks. 

“There will be!” Naminé almost snaps in response, before realizing exactly who she was snapping at. “Sorry...”

(There has to be a later.)

“No, we have to help!” Axel argues, throwing out his hands. “Look, usually I’m all for self-preservation, but he might  _ die _ !”

“Axel’s right!” Kairi says, bringing out her Keyblade with a determined look on her face. “He needs our help!”

 

No. They need to  _ leave _ . All of them. Gritting her teeth, Naminé breaks the illusion over Ventus, revealing him to the world. “He’s not safe!” She points at him. 

Axel nearly trips backwards in surprise. “Ventus...?” He murmurs. 

“Grab him!” Naminé orders. Axel, still apparently numb, obeys her in a daze. He scoops up the sleeping boy in a princess carry. 

Naminé breathes. Just enough magic, regained from breaking the spell she had over the comatose boy. 

Just barely enough to carry the four of them away from here. 

“Teleport!” she cries, with the last of her strength. 

And the world vanishes in a whirl of blue light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter updates may slow down just a bit, due to circumstances of school and work. But I do have the end plotted out, so don't fear this story will be left unfinished.
> 
> Also, remember: neither Larxene nor Marluxia have access to a Keyblade. Which means Demyx isn't gone, for good. But he is gone for now.


	27. Iron Imprisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanitas has a very, very Bad Time, as well as three visitors. He's also a tool, both in past and present. Metaphorically and literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Lots of blood, torture, and swearing. Vanitas is again, not having a good time here. Also warnings for suicide and murder.

They get him, in the end. Too much magic spent, over-extending himself. Xehanort’s Keyblade wraps around his leg in the form of a whip, pulling him down. Chains of Nothingness wrap about him. Impossible to break in his current state. 

 

The least he deserves. He  _ knew  _ that Marluxia and Larxene were plotting something, that they wanted Strelitzia for their own. That they would kill, if it came down to it. Vanitas  _ knew _ that and more. 

Yet he still had left Demyx alone to face them. Too distracted by the misery of his past in physical form, a living reminder of his failures. 

Well, guess what. The joke’s on him now. That physical reminder is gone now. Strelitzia is gone now.  _ Demyx... _

In attempts to save one, he’s lost all three. A fool. Argh. Which is only par for the course, really, with him. 

He closes his eyes, blood dripping down from a cut on his face. Right under his left eye. The blue one. 

 

“Ha. What now?”

Vanitas knows what’s coming. No matter how he fights, he can’t change that much. 

“Your Master will want to see you,” the youngest Xehanort intones. 

Vanitas thumps the back of his head against the ground. “Of course. Can’t wait to see the old fucker again.”

A kick to the gut leaves him wheezing and curled up as much as the chains will allow him. 

Assholes. 

Well, at least Naminé's gotten away. He doesn’t think he could bear this if she hadn’t. 

(Like Demyx hadn’t.)

(Like Strelitzia hadn't.)

His brain’s fuzzy and his eyes stay shut. He slips off into darkness. If these jerks are going to bring him to Xehanort...well, he’s going to make them  _ drag  _ him there. 

 

* * *

Waking up is unpleasant experience. Due to the boot finding its way into his ribs. Just like old times. 

“Go away, old man,” he hisses, cracking his eyes. Up at a glowering yellow eyes. Another kick to the ribs. Fuck. He can hear something  _ crunch _ under that one. Vanitas gasps for breath. It burns. 

“Eat shit and die.” Yep, he’s going to die. 

A hand grabs his collar and hauls him onto his feet. Vanitas opens a little more. Everything’s so bright here, in this stupid desert. So much damn sand. 

THWACK. Vanitas finds himself thrown into a nearby pillar. It hurts. A lot. 

“Stop, stop, I’m up.” His hands scrabble at the ground as he tries to push himself onto his feet. Fails. Lands on his face instead. 

“We have a lot of work to do, my apprentice.”

No. No. Vanitas wants to scream. He can’t. Too busy struggling to pull air into his lungs. 

“Get up.” Xehanort drags him onto his feet again. Looking the same way he did two decades ago, in Vanitas’ timeline. 

Old and bald. 

“No.” Oops. Said that out loud.

Xehanort looks  _ disappointed.  _ In a fatherly ‘I’m going to pound your ass now’ kind of way. Shakes his head. “I see. You can learn for yourself the punishment for your...digressions.”

Vanitas spits in his face. Very bloody. Drips down like honey, slowlike. 

Xehanort...well, he’s not pleased. 

 

Vanitas doesn’t even remember what happens after that point. Only that it hurts. A lot. And that he finds himself in a nice white room afterwards. Patched up only enough so he won’t die, but left in complete agony otherwise. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. His head’s all hazy now, as he stares up at a ceiling he can’t see. His blood dripping down the table he’s chained to. 

His ‘master’ has been kind enough to leave a body-length mirror tilted against the wall, so Vanitas can see everything that’s been done to his wreck of a body. 

It’s not pretty, that’s for sure. 

He could fight it. He always fought it, before. But now, Vanitas likes to think he’s a  _ little  _ smarter than before and sits there instead. Conserving energy. 

Lays there and recalls...misery. Mistakes.

The last time he ever saw Aqua. The day he almost died. 

Should have died. 

()

They chase Aqua to the edges of her great territory. Slay the creatures of Wrath that she leaves in her wake. Often too late to save the inhabitants of the worlds they rampaged across. With each broken land they come across, their heart(s) burn stronger. More determined to put an end to this. 

(Aqua, how could you do this? You said we would  _ protect  _ the worlds, not  _ end  _ them!)

( _ Master _ Aqua, you’re so much stronger than before. So much like  _ me.  _ I can’t wait to fight you...)

 

They hunt her, until at last they meet, at a puny world. A dead world, landscape nothing but dust and bones, any hearts long since vanished into the beyond alongside their souls. There are Dusks, about the edges, but they know better than to draw near this raging storm. 

She stands, with her back to them. Her armor gleams a pearly blue, fresh like it had never been broken, never been lost. Unicorns, patterned all over it in their strange frolicking. Her blue hair is long now, down to her waist. 

(Aqua swore she wouldn’t cut it, until Terra came home.)

(But he never came back, now did he? I  _ told  _ you, he’s not the same person anymore.)

“Ventus,” the name drops like a stone from her lips, as she turns to face them. But not Ven, and it  _ hurts _ . “I see you’ve... _ joined _ with Vanitas.”

They peel back their lips to show their teeth at her, Wayward Wind in their left hand. “I had no choice! Aqua...you’re hurting people!”

“How  _ dare you _ !” She screams at them. “I’m  _ saving  _ them!”

(Wow. Heh. I never managed to lie to myself like  _ that _ ...what an accomplishment.)

(Shut up.)

“By killing everyone in your way, Aqua?!” They yell back. 

“I’m not  _ killing them, _ ” she insists, eyes flashing angrily. Her fingers twitch on her right hand, about ready to call her Keyblade out. 

They spread out their arms. “Then explain. How are you saving them, destroying their worlds?”

(Does it matter?)

(Of course it does! The Aqua I know would never hurt people like this.)

(...Maybe the Aqua you know doesn’t exist anymore. Think of that, huh?)

Forcibly, their attention snaps back to Aqua. Who now paces back and forth right in front of them. 

“Master Eraqus was right. Darkness caused everything bad that happened to us. Terra disappearing, my falling into the Realm of Darkness, your sleep...Darkness did all of that.”

“ _ Xehanort  _ did that!”

“And Xehanort was of the Dark! I won’t let the Dark take anyone ever again!” Light flickers around her, as she gets more and more worked up. 

“How? Everyone has Darkness in them,” they press, lowering into a battle ready stance. 

“But you don’t, Ventus!” Light blooms around her body, as bright and harsh as desert bone-bleaching sunlight. “Or didn’t. Your Darkness was taken out of you.”

“...You didn’t. Aqua, tell me you didn’t.”

(Of course she did. Keyblade Masters are all the same.)

“I took their Darkness out, of course. And that Darkness took a form of its own, much like  _ Vanitas _ .” The Light-filled cloud shifts into something with...hooves. And a single spiraled horn. 

“Then those Rage monsters...?”

“Their Darkness that they failed to control! Why can’t anyone be strong!?” Aqua snarls at the sky, at them, and at last, a Keyblade comes out into her hand. A Keyblade that’s not Master Keeper, nor Rainfall. 

Pointy and silver, with streaks of black lined with gold. A familiar blue-eyed Keychain. 

((Master Ira’s Keyblade!))

She levels the Keyblade at them. 

“You failed. Let me teach you want it means to be  _ truly strong _ .”

(Oooh. So  _ scary _ .)

(Not now!)

Wayward Wind comes up as Aqua charges. Or rather,  _ Wrath _ charges. She’s still human shaped, but also something more with hooves causing the ground to burn with a frigid ice. 

They call on Fire and Aero together, to drive back the Blizzard reaching up to pull them down. Catch the opposing Keyblade with their own and give her a kick to the gut. She doesn’t move. As still as a boulder. 

They push harder, with their combined strength, Dark and Light flaring. Her own Light burns brighter. Yet her feet move back. An inch. 

“Back off!” Shotlock to the face, how bout that? Good enough to get her to back off and they dive for the kill. Only for her blade to come up before they can properly land a hit. 

“You cannot defeat Light!”

Ira’s Keyblade comes down at their hand. Wayward Wind barely manages to catch it. Catching it isn’t enough, in the end. 

Under the pressure of Wrath’s Will and ancient Keyblade...Wayward Wind, never very sturdy in the first place,  _ shatters.  _ They cry out, dropping their broken weapon. 

“Fool.”

Wrath strides right up to them, and wraps her hand around their throat. Squeezes. 

“ _ Aqua _ ,” Ventus struggles for breath. Hands wrap around the armored gauntlet currently choking the life out of him. 

Something flickers in those sea blue eyes. An emotion other than rage. A glimmer...

A tear. A single tear, trailing from eye down her cheek. 

 

Enough to open the floodgates. Their body drops onto the ground. She brings her hands up to her face, where tears gush out.

“Oh, Ven, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Her armor vanishes, as she reaches out for him, to hold him in her arms. She weeps and for a moment, everything has a possibility to turn out alright. 

Ventus’ right hand spasms. Jerks its way to where the shattered Wayward Wind pieces fell. Fingers wrap around a shard, hard enough to cut their palm open. Red, red, red blood. So very red. 

(What are you doing, Vanitas?)

His hand clenches around the hilt of a Darker Keyblade. Void Gear. Swings with all their strength. 

(Vanitas!)

Blood splatters everywhere, as Void Gear finishes its arc to hit Aqua nearly directly to the heart. Her eyes widen in complete shock. Words hiss out of her, words not fully her own. 

“ _ O killer of mine, bear the burden: Wrath.”  _

Her last,  _ last  _ words? “Ven.”

(Aqua!)

(Well, she’s dead now.)

(How could you!)

 

Their vision blurs from the gruesome sight to something vaguely less so. Not to mention a location where two hearts collided. All is glass and color, as two halves of the same heart argue with one another. 

“You killed her!”

“Of course I did, she was killing us!”

“She stopped!”

“For how long? Wrath would have finished us off eventually.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And what? You do? You  _ know  _ what Sins do.”

“Aqua’s  _ different _ .”

“Because she’s your ‘friend.’ Who almost killed you!” 

“...I hate you.”

“Of course you do.” A sneer. “Won’t stop me from doing the dirty work that we need  _ to survive. _ ”

“...What if I don’t want to survive?”

“What?”

“We have Wrath inside of us now. Because we killed the last person carrying it.” Ventus squats, fingers tracing the colorful designs of their shared heart. Along a unicorn pattern, cleverly hidden among the green. “We’ll  _ hurt  _ people.”

Vanitas scoffs, tapping a boot against that same pattern. “We hurt people just by existing.”

“We should stop then.”

A chill runs up Vanitas’ spine. “Stop what?”

Ventus looks up at him for the first time, blue eyes determined. “Stop existing.”

“We’re not dying,” Vanitas affirms, taking a step towards his other. 

“Vanitas...Wrath will destroy everything. It made Aqua hurt so many people. I can’t let that happen.”

“Your friends are dead, Ventus! You don’t need to protect them anymore!” Vanitas spreads his arms, indicating their heart platform. The platform with both of them on it. “Just us against the worlds.”

“No.” 

Vanitas pause. “No?”

Ventus’ shoulders are shaking. “You don’t get it. You never have. I won’t  _ let us hurt anyone! _ ”

With that, the blond pulls out a Keyblade.  _ Missing Ache.  _ Takes Missing Ache and before Vanitas can get there in time to stop him, stabs the blade into their heart. 

“No!”

Ventus closes his eyes, as the glass breaks off around him. Like it did ten years before. Looking so peaceful. But this time, there is no safety net. No second chance. Sora is dead and there is no heart to put their missing pieces back together. 

He falls with a sleepy smile. 

Vanitas  _ screams _ and the world screams with him, as he falls too.

Falls into the Void.

* * *

 

_ Huh. That’s a lot of Darkness, for a person-heart. Where’d the Light go? _

Who...are...you.

_...whoa, you’re still alive? That’s crazy. _

What’d you mean, ‘still alive’?

_ Um _ . 

Tell me. 

_ Well, stranger, you’re a bunch of tiny pieces right now.  _

What?

_ There’s a Princess nearby...maybe if I get her over here...hold on. _

Wait, don-

 

* * *

He opens his eyes to a blue, blue sky. He blinks. Wait, what?

He supposed to be  _ dead _ . Dead people can’t open their eyes and look up at the sky. Dead people can’t do  _ anything _ but be dead. 

Why is he alive? 

 

There’s a blurry person standing over him. His heart  _ burns,  _ for some reason, as he frantically tries to push himself up. To face what’s coming for him. 

“Sh, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Sure you aren’t,” he snaps, pulling mentally for his Keyblade. But his Keyblade doesn’t come. What?

The blurry person comes more into focus, revealing itself to be a red-haired girl. About his age. (Ventus’ age.)

Her blue eyes blink as she notices his focus finally settling on her. A small smile settles on her face as well. 

“Hello, I’m Kairi.”

Oh, he  _ knows  _ that name. 

“I know who you are, princess,” he manages to gargle out. Feels like spitting rocks. 

“Oh, that’s good, then. How are you feeling?”

He considers lying. “Like I should be dead right now.” He doesn’t. 

“Well, you should be. You’re lucky I came by when I did.”

“Sure.  _ Lucky. _ ” He coughs, chest rattling. 

She frowns, hands on her hips. “Would you rather be dead, then?”

“No, I want to know what you want from me.” People don’t save their enemies just  _ to be nice _ . Not even Light-crazies do that. 

 

“We need all the help we can get. Dark or Light.”

“I’m just an extra body, then?” he scoffs. 

“You’re a good fighter, and we need that. To fight the Sins.” Kairi holds out her hand. “Will you help?”

Because he’s petty, Vanitas leaves her hand hanging as he considers his options. Which aren’t...a lot. He can lie here and die...again. Or go with this annoyingly bright-hearted Princess. 

(He doesn’t want to die.)

Well, at least with the Princess the possibility exists of ditching her later. 

“Fine.” He ignores her hand, pushing himself up onto his feet on his own. “I’ll go with you.”

A bright smile, that leaves his heart thumping. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

“Radiant Garden...that name doesn’t really fit this place anymore. ‘S not very ‘radiant,’”

“So a new name, then?”

()

Vanitas wakes from his haze of dream and memory with two words on his lips.

“Hopeful Gardens.”

“Curious,” says the other person in the cell. 

Vanitas blinks, squinting a bit to catch exactly whose in here. Catches silver hair. Then he snorts, after thinking through his answer.

“Thought your older self wanted me all to himself. Why’re you here?”

“I wanted to get a look at some of his handiwork.” An upper lip lifted in a sneer. “I must say, I’m not impressed.”

“Anything else?” Vanitas lifts his hands, as much as he can with them bound to the table. Wiggles his fingers. “You could have checked me out while I was out of it, then left. But you’re still here.”

The younger Xehanort doesn’t answer him directly. Of course. He instead elects to muse to his captive audience out loud, proving that he is indeed Xehanort. 

“You survived, against all odds. Your fragmented heart should have collapsed long ago, even if you did survive your attempted forging of the X-Blade. Even fusing with your ‘other half’ should not have been enough, or if it was, your ‘Light’ would have been the dominant personality. Yet that didn’t happen.”

The young Xehanort walks a little closer, hand hovering over Vanitas’ chest. Uncomfortably close. 

Vanitas squirms. Attempting to get out of reach. Not that the attempt’s successful at all, but hey, better than doing nothing. 

“Hm...it seems that your heart was forced together by someone with much Darkness and not much anything else.”

“And people say I don’t have any manners,” Vanitas remarks, resisting the urge to bite at the sleeve in his face. 

“You’ve...matured, somewhat, from the last time I met you.” Xehanort withdraws his hand, dragging his sleeve across Vanitas’ face in the process. 

“It’s been ten years. People tend to grow up in that amount of time.” 

“Ten years. And what exactly was my older self doing in that time frame?” The young Xehanort seems almost  _ bored _ , asking this question. Like nothing Vanitas can say will surprise him at all. Everything is expected. 

Well, screw that. 

 

“Being very, very dead. See, I don’t  _ fuckin _ ’ need him anymore.” Vanitas can’t help but grin at the thought, grin at the young Xehanort’s sudden stutter in movement. 

“Impossible. My fate-”

“Fate is  _ shit _ ,” Vanitas interrupts, rolling his eyes very very slowly. With enough exaggeration that a blind man could catch it. “Fight fate.  _ Break  _ fate. Who cares about the old man?”

Yellow eyes narrow at him suspiciously. “You’re only saying this to convince me to let you go.”

Vanitas attempts a shrug, shoulders jerking against the chains. “Is it working? But seriously, you don’t  _ have to be him. _ ” 

The teenager almost laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t have to be? If I don’t become him, then you don’t exist.” He slowly turns his gloved hand in circle, indicating the whole dank room. “ _ None  _ of this exists. Are you so eager to stop living?”

There’s a quaver to his voice. Weakness. 

Vanitas pounces. “You know what I think? I think that your ‘greater good’ nonsense, this ‘existing’ shit, doesn’t matter. You’re  _ scared  _ of leaving the old beaten path. That’s it. A  _ coward. _ ”

Young Xehanort’s face becomes a grimace. He slaps a hand down, right in an open wound, enough to leave Vanitas hissing. Then turns quickly on his heel and vanishes into a Dark Corridor reaching to swallow him up. 

Empty room. Again. 

“Hey, you going to bring back food? Hey?”

 

* * *

Time tends to merge together in the dark, like this. Pain is never very good at helping to keep track of time either. More old man visits. No more young guy visits. 

Only pain. 

Until, at last, the door quietly creaks open? Which is weird, since all of his past visitors have insisted on Corridoring everywhere. 

A small cloaked person quickly slides through the cracked down, and just as quickly shimmies the door shut. 

“Hello?”

 

The figure ignores him, in favor of rotting through its pockets. To pull something out. The little figure holds up, between two fingers, a card. A card, of all things. The picture on the card’s face is that of a girl. A girl with black hair, eyes closed. She pours water into a cup from a small pitcher, and stands half on land, half in water. 

A card Vanitas can actually recognize on sight. 

“What is this?” The hooded figure asks, its voice keenly feminine. A girl, then?

Vanitas laughs, just a little. It’s wet-sounding cough, like more blood is about to pour out of him. 

“That card...Temperance. Who are you?”

“Xion,” the girl says in a low tone. “My name is Xion.” 

“Never heard of you.”

Xion’s head shifts, so her unseen eyes are looking somewhere at the floor. “...most people haven’t.”

“Hm. So why are you here, Xion? Talking to your master’s prisoner. You have to know what punishment awaits if you get caught.”

“Someone told me you would know what this card meant.”

“And who was this someone of yours?” Pretty daring, to visit a prisoner just to find out what a scrap of paper symbolized...and who would know that he paid attention to stuff like that? Definitely no one in the Organization. 

Xion hesitates, but gives him the name despite that. “Her name’s Strelitzia.”

 

Vanitas bursts into a hacking fit. “ _ Is she okay _ ?” He demands, pulling as far forward as his chains will allow. 

Xion takes a half-step back. “She’s fine. Well, as much as anyone here is fine,” the girl allows. 

Vanitas breathes, a rattling sigh, as he leans back against his table once more. “Good. Uh. Not good, but you get what I mean.”

“....Yes. I do.” Xion holds up the card again. “Do you know more?”

“Hmm.” Vanitas squints at the Temperance card. There’s something  _ off  _ about it, that he can’t quite place. A power, an energy in it. He’s no Naminé, experienced in identifying different types of magicks and Keyblades. But he does know the Arcana, from his experiences in the Metaverse. 

(Demyx would know that.)

“That card...save as a back-up,” he advises. “Don’t let anyone else know you have it. When you’re in trouble and a situation’s unbalanced...play that card to rebalance the scales.”

Xion examines Temperance more closely. She nods once, before letting down her hood. 

Her face...looks almost exactly like the face on the card. Short black hair, violet eyes...whoa. No wonder Strelitzia advised to get info on that card. 

“What do you mean by ‘unbalanced’?”

“More enemies on side than the other, broken weapons while the other side’s is fine, life generally being unfair...Temperance is, well, not Justice. Doesn’t fix things for being wrong. Temperance just...lets you see a way to find harmony.”

Vanitas grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “Ick. Talk too long. You didn’t want to hear all that.”

“No, that’s useful. Thank you.” Xion sticks her card back into a pocket. “Do you...want some help?”

“...That would be handy. But I’ll be fine.” Vanitas lowers his head against his chest. 

“I could let you go,” Xion offers, her violet-blue eyes looking over at his chains. 

Vanitas jerks his head back. The chains rattle. “Don’t.”

She frowns. “Don’t you want to leave?”

“Xion. If you let me go,  _ he  _ will find out. Find out and hurt you. I’m not going to do that to you.” All these kids deserve so much better than this. 

“...Okay.”

“Well, you can do one thing for me. Please?”

Violet eyes brighten. “What is it?”

“Keep an eye on Strelitzia for me.”

“Of course.” She gives him a nod. “I promise.” Her hand gives him a little wave, as she makes her way back to the door. Opens it and leaves through it, just as quietly as she had come through. 

Vanitas sighs. His wrists relax, even as they ache even more. 

“Well, that could have been worse.”

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually, old man Xehanort does return. Wanted to make his old apprentice stew for a bit, is Vanitas’ guess. Not because he was really busy or anything. 

“Vanitas. Such a shame you’ve fallen so far.” The old man shakes his head. 

“I’ve had worse.” Vanitas shrugs, hissing slightly as his over-wrought shoulders pop. 

“Yes, you have. Yet for some reason you decided to betray your Master.”

Vanitas can’t help but laugh. “Betray you?  _ You  _ betrayed me first. Left me for an entire new crew of flunkies.”

“Vanitas, you went beyond that. You have been actively fighting against me,” Xehanort says. His Keyblade’s not out yet. Which is good. Be nice to keep that way, but Vanitas knows himself and his old Master. The Keyblade’s going to come out some time. And when it does, it’s going to  _ hurt _ .

Gotta hit him with as many zingers as possible before that point. 

 

“Like you would care, I wasn’t doing some  _ real  _ damage. Admit it, you’re just pissed I proved your entire theory wrong.”

His old Master pauses. “What?”

Vanitas grins, blood running down his teeth. “You know, how Darkness is  _ evil  _ and  _ uncontrollable _ , so it needs to be controlled by you  _ personally. _ If I could become less of a monster without you, one that  _ doesn’t  _ want to kill everyone, then the problem isn’t Darkness. It’s just you’re  _ scummy trash. _ ”

“...It appears that you have forgotten a few lessons about speaking to your betters.”

Xehanort’s hand sparks with a familiar purple-black lightning. Vanitas can’t help but stiffen at the sight. Not enough to prepare for that same lightning to slam into an open wound. Into his chest. 

Vanitas howls. Agony. An agony he hasn’t felt in years, the pain of a heart shredding itself under emotional and outside impact. 

After who knows how long of this, his Master withdraws. Enough so Vanitas can see the mirror once more. Withdraws, but not fully. His hand is still there, around his fragile heart. 

 

The mirror...Vanitas lifts his head to meet his reflection. Bright  _ yellow  _ eyes stare back. He coughs, black bile dripping from his lips. Onto the floor to weakly wiggle itself into the shape of a tiny Flood. A Flood his Master promptly crushes under foot. Pang of familiar agony to the heart. 

Vanitas grits his teeth. Turns his head to meet his Master’s just as yellow eyes.  _ Smug _ yellow eyes. 

The words fall easily from his lips.  _ Anything  _ to stop the pulsing pain, of his Master’s hand in his chest. Clutching his heart. 

“I’m ready to listen now, Master.”

“Of course.”

The hand withdraws. Vanitas gasps for breath, the pressure finally gone. He bows his head. 

“Master.”

 

(You swore you would never bow.)

(You  _ liar _ .)

(How dare-!)

Deep within, upon a stained glass circle,  _ something  _ raises its head. Horned and hoofed, feathered and furred. Yellow eyes gleam. 

_ Wrath _ stirs. 


	28. Rhapsody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much everything is symbolic, two parts have a (ahem) heart-to-heart, and Demyx either forms an army (or a band.)

There is a city. A city of gardens, a city surrounded by a waveless sea, a city that will forever be in the process of being rebuilt. 

Somehow its cobbled streets manage to still glow brightly, despite there being no sun to shine down its light. Just a watercolor sky, of swirling violets. 

Instead of those streets being full of flesh-and-blood people, they are full of shimmery fluid figures. Made of clear water, they dance out their last moments over and over again. 

Only one exception to this rule exists. A figure in a black cloak, sitting up on the edge of a towering castle wall. One with a blond mullet. 

 

Demyx swings his feet idly, watching the dead below. His fingers tap a quick tattoo on the stone next to his seat. 

“You’re a coward,” says a voice right next to him. 

Demyx sighs, only shifting his eyes enough to catch the new cloaked person now sitting beside him. Zexion, peering at him through a silvery hair fringe with disdain. 

“Yeah, so? You going to tell me something I don’t already know?”

“We’re both cowards,” Zexion continues, kicking his legs  with a frown on his face. “But it seems this world that we carry inside of us, is forcing our hand.”

“This place isn’t forcing me to do anything.” Demyx’s gaze returns to the watery spirits far below. 

“Have you tried leaving? Because you cannot.”

“Why would I want to?” Demyx huffs back, “This place is just fine.”

“Don’t you remember how you got here, you lazy dunce?” Zexion sighs, throwing up his hands. 

Knives to the chest, attacks from a scythe...

“Vani!” Demyx gasps, stilling. “And Strelitzia and the rest...they’re in trouble. I can’t stay here.”

“About time you remembered. Yes, yes, you need to get out to save them. Follow me and I will show you how.” Zexion slides off the wall, onto the grass far below. Demyx follows him with ease. 

Three stones, sitting on the grass. Marked with the letters of VI, V, and III, each one of them. Before Demyx can get a chance to grab a better look at them, Zexion grabs him by the sleeve and tugs him along.  

“We have to hurry! No time to delay.”

To the castle. Where everything both began and ended. 

 

Though Radiant Garden is a world full of ghosts, somehow this empty castle feels more haunted than the rest of it. No guards, no servants. Nobody but Demyx and Zexion themselves wander these hallways. 

Down to the lab, where it both began and ended...

The rooms below...are  _ full  _ of papers. Filled to the brim. Demyx peeks at a few, catching only big numbers and phrases like, ‘awakening a Heart lost to Darkness is a difficult process, that involves a strange power unknown to most...’

Diagrams for different kinds of replicas plaster the walls. Nothing Demyx understands from a first glance, but somewhere deep inside, he knows eventually he could decipher them. Which is terrifying beyond all measure. 

Has he really changed that much?

“Admit it, Demyx, you’re not the same person you were before.”

“...That’s not true, “ he argues. Weakly. Barely. 

Zexion shakes his head at him, silver hair flopping all over the place. He doesn’t say anything else, though. Good. 

Only tugs Demyx by the sleeve over to somewhere new, that he’s never seen before. 

 

There is a hall with many doors. A hallway that seems to go on forever. 

Two doors in particular grab his eye. One is made of the plainest wood, a simple snarling leopard carved into it. Laying a hand against it gets him a buzzed  _ Gluttony.  _

Demyx has a feeling that he should probably not open that door. Ever. 

Not if he wants to continue his current existence. 

 

He moves on to the next door. 

A door with orange blue flowers painted around its frame. Gently, he pushes it open. The door quietly obeys, not even a creak as it reveals the room it guards to him. 

Inside...looks surprisingly warm. Comfortable. A room meant to be lived in, a bedroom. Pale green walls, plants in pots along those same walls. A bed, sheeted with pink, and a small cat-like stuffed animal resting on top of it. Pictures of many people, some familiar and others not. 

Demyx traces the nearest frame, of a smiling orange girl, standing next to a boy with pink hair.

“Strelitzia...”

“Demyx,” Zexion interrupts. “We need to move on. Please.”

Demyx carefully moves away, back to Zexion. Just as carefully, pulls the door shut.

“I’ll find you. I promise.”

 

All this, to get to the door at the very end of the forever hall. 

The door is simple. Wooden, with a keyhole-shaped hole in it, like the door of an ancient outhouse. 

“Go on.” Zexion gestures to the door. “That’s for you.”

“Are you sure?”

Zexion’s cold eyes look at him with something akin to amusement. “Are  _ you  _ sure?”

“Uh.”

The other former Nobody takes pity on him, pushing Demyx towards the door. “You have to face it eventually. Do it sooner, rather than later.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea...”

“Probably not. But there aren’t any better ones.”

They need him...can’t hold back now. Demyx grits his teeth, going up to the door. 

Opens it. Walks through. And the door shuts itself behind him. 

 

The room is simple. Straightforward. Like the door. 

Familiar in its sterile whiteness, the blankness of the Castle That Never Was distilled in a single room. 

A simple phrase typed on a card, on the wall.  You cannot bring back the dead.

Black inky words, splattered across the floor. 

**_Demyx? No...it wasn’t supposed to be you! Where’s Ienzo?_ **

Even as Demyx watches, the words quiver, reshaping themselves into bitter truths. 

**_A mistake._ **

**_A monster._ **

**_Fuel for another._ **

**_You were never supposed to exist._ **

Growing larger,  _ reaching  _ for him. 

**_Why don’t you kill yourself?_ **

**_No one needs an idiot like you around._ **

**_Just give up._ **

“No, no, no.” Demyx staggers back, hand going behind him to try the doorknob. Stuck. Locked. Trapped. 

The light, unseen as it is, whatever’s keeping this room lit, goes out. 

_ Everything  _ goes Dark. 

Demyx screams, the sound muffled by the Dark pouring into him. Out of him. Devouring him, stripping him of his form strip by strip. 

Yeah, that’s right. Why did he think he could do anything? Useless, moron, dunce...he  _ wasn’t even supposed to exist! _

Vexen wanted Ienzo, not him! Did all of us for  _ Zexion _ . 

Demyx was an accident, a byproduct that was never supposed to happen!

He’s, he’s...so  _ empty. _ So cold. 

(Maybe you should just stick to devouring worlds, hm?)

(Make a good monster, but not much else.)

 

A hand closes around Demyx’s shoulder.

Grips hard and  _ pulls.  _ Wrenches him free of the devouring Dark, the  _ loneliness _ and failures eating him whole. 

Pulls him out of the room, and slams the door shut before the Darkness inside can dare to creep out after them. 

It’s...Vanitas. Looking him over with a single red eye. Wearing a blue t-shirt, with a scarlet heart-like symbol. The symbol of the Unversed. 

“How are you here?” Demyx gasps like a fish on dry land. 

Vanitas raises an eyebrow. “Demyx...when you were squishing my shitty heart back together like putty, back when I was  _ dying _ , you adsorbed some of me.”

“What?”

“You adsorbed me,” Vanitas repeats, gesturing to himself. “I’m a piece of Vanitas’ heart inside of you.”

“Yeah, but why are you here? Why pull me out?” Demyx gestures wildly to the door. To the dark room that lies within. 

Vanitas raises an eyebrow at him. “Did you want to be in there?”

“No.” That didn’t stop anyone before. 

“Well then.” Vanitas flicks his fingers at him. Like that’s an answer. 

“That didn’t explain anything!” Demyx protests. 

“Hm. Well, what about this?” Vanitas rubs at the side of his face, the same side where Demyx himself has an X-shaped scar. Psyching himself up, Demyx had to guess. 

Breathes and goes right into it. 

“We all have our Bad Days. Sometimes the rest of us will have a Bad Day when you don’t, sometimes when you do.”

Vanitas heaves out a breath and Demyx finds himself mimicking him, though he himself no longer needs to breathe. 

“But no matter what, we’re going to pull each other through those Bad Days. Because that’s what friends do.”

Vanitas offers his hand. 

Demyx, full of wonder, takes it. 

“C’mon. You’ve got some friends to save.”

“Seriously, how do you come up with these friend speeches?”

Vanitas wiggles his fingers. “Spend a decade in Sora’s heart and you’d have plenty of material too.”

“Maybe I should try it sometime,” Demyx says, only half-joking. 

“So you gonna get going or not?”

Demyx’s eyes...they go up. To the fuzzy, blurry sky that only barely exists in this Dream of a world. “Yeah...I think I will. The rest of you needs me.”

Strelitzia needs him. The rest of the team needs him. And he can’t help them, staying here. 

“Huh. Good luck with that.”

“Yeah. I’m going to need that.”  _ You,  _ he almost says, instead.  “I’ll...I’ll see you soon.”

Demyx  _ pulls  _ at himself, pulls at the rest of this ‘world’. 

Reaches out and he’s...out.

 

* * *

 

Two people, once more sitting on the top of the wall. Overlooking a ghost town.  

Only one is the same as before, wearing that same black coat, with familiar silver hair. The other is someone else entirely. An individual shorter than the first, wearing a bright blue T-shirt. 

Talking. 

“What was the point of that mess? Sticking him in  _ there _ ...what if he didn’t come out?” Vanitas narrows his eyes at Zexion, patting his hands against the stone. 

Zexion sniffs. “If he wasn’t strong enough, well, I would still be here. Someone could take control.”

Vanitas stares for a moment, before shaking his head. “...He’s smart. You know he’s going to figure out what you tried to do eventually.”

“But it didn’t happen, now did it? Thanks to you.”

“Still could have.” Vanitas raises an eyebrow. “Gonna do it again?”

“...No.” Zexion hums. “You saved us, you know.”

“What? No, you saved me. Put the heart back together after Ventus...” Vanitas digs his teeth into his lip, gesturing with one hand. “You know.”

“But that also woke us up,” Zexion insists. “Before, we just wandered. Purposeless. Empty. Putting you together, receiving you, a fragment...changed us. Made us aware.”

(That we weren’t alone. That other hearts existed out there, in the Dark.)

“That’s kind of...crazy.”

“Yes.”

 

Vanitas turns away, looking back up at the sky. Signaling a clear change in subject. Which is fine. Zexion’s quite alright with that. 

“Radiant Garden...that name doesn’t really fit this place anymore. ‘S not very ‘radiant,’” Vanitas muses, elbow placed on his knees as he leans forward into his lap. 

“So a new name, then?” Zexion asks, head tilted towards the smeared-up sky. 

“Yeah...” Vanitas brings up a hand to rub at his chin. “How about...Hopeful Gardens?”

A small smile, on Zexion’s face. “I like the sound of that.”

Two red eyes look up at the sky themselves, following Zexion’s gaze.  

“I do too. Gives me... _ hope _ .”

Zexion shakes his head, snorting. “You Dreamer,” he says, almost fondly. “The rest of you...is probably hurting pretty badly right now. 

“Yeah. Connected, yet separate.” Vanitas holds out his hand in front of his face, examining it. “The rest of me, outside Demyx, won’t remember this, will he?”

“No.” A gloved hand pats Vanitas on the shoulder. “But Demyx will and that’s the important part.”

“If you say so...” Vanitas smirks at Zexion, digging his chin into his own shirt collar. “We’ll see.”

“Hm. Is there a reason you’re still here, talking to me?” Zexion taps gloved fingers together, tugging at his sleeve. 

Vanitas tilts his head, hands on the edge of the wall, as he swings his feet. “You two...need to talk more. Get your mess figured out in a way that doesn’t end up crushing either of you.”

“Hm. And here I thought all you cared about here was Demyx,” Zexion muses. 

“Well, you’re part of him too. Need both of you to get the Demyx I know.” Vanitas glances down at the streets below, lips twisting. “And I know all about having a half you don’t get along with. Never ends well.”

“Oh, yes. That’s right. Ventus, was it?”

“Yeah. Not that it matters anymore.”

“Does it not?” Zexion pushes. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’s never been very good at ‘shouldn’t.’ Only ‘will’ and ‘what if.’ If the Demyx part focuses on the now, the surface of the present, then Zexion is there to dig a little deeper. 

(To make sure the requirements are met.)

(That no one,  _ no one _ , steals their claims.)

Vanitas snarls at him. Since this place is not quite real, Vanitas also... _ fizzles  _ a bit when doing so, Darkness flaring up from him as the cracks show through. Revealing this fragment of heart to be just that: a fragment of heart. 

“ _ Yes _ . This Ventus, he’s not part of  _ my  _ heart. He has another Vanitas for that. Not me. Not the rest of me.” The fragmenting pauses, reverses itself. “I mean, there’s a Nobody out there called Demyx. But it’s not  _ Demyx’s  _ Nobody. Not your Nobody.”

Zexion looks down at his own hands. His gloved hands. Hands that don’t even really exist, he’s not real anymore than this Vanitas is. There, but not  _ there.  _

“...True. It’s not like we’re  _ actually  _ people.”

Vanitas shrugs at that. “We’re parts of people. Isn’t that enough?”

“Perhaps.”

A moment of silence, as they both turn their attention back to the world below. 

 

Vanitas  _ lurches, _ nearly falling off the wall. Zexion’s head jerks up in alarm. 

“What?”

Vanitas rasps out a word, a word that leaves Zexion’s veins full of ice. “ _ Xehanort.” _

“Vani. I won’t leave you to Xehanort. No matter what, I  _ will come for you _ .” Zexion leans forward to wrap his hands around Vanitas’. 

Vanitas keeps his head down, refusing to look at him. “...it might already be too late, for the rest of me.”

Zexion’s fingers push up Vanitas’ chin, to behold his eyes. His  _ gold  _ eyes. Heartless eyes. 

His hand jolts back, like he’s been burned. “No!”

Vanitas blinks sluggishly at him. Just as sluggish as his fading. Leaving nothing behind but those damned yellow eyes. 

(Their claim...Xehanort  _ stole  _ him!)

Zexion nearly screams. Stares up at the sky with laser-focused intensity. 

“Demyx...you need to hurry up. Now.”

 

* * *

The Realm of Darkness is the same blandness it always is. Well, the place would be more active if actual people, with the whole package of souls, hearts, and bodies, were present. 

Since Demyx only fits one of those categories and barely some of a second, being a Heartless, nothing responds to him. 

Still and silent. 

Perfect for him to set everything up, before he goes bursting into the Realm of Light to rescue everyone. 

(Yeah, actually  _ planning  _ ahead. Isn’t that  _ weird _ ?)

He still needs to move quickly. No way to know exactly how much time is passing in the worlds of Light right now. 

 

His fingers grip the orange glass star, the  _ Wayfinder.  _ Calls out the heart that is tightly bound to it. 

It comes. It doesn’t have any choice not to.

The Heartless minion snorts in his face, as it stretches itself out into existence. Large hands grasp at Demyx but come short of touching him directly. 

Huh. He barely tugs at the claim he stole off the Heart-Nort and the flinch the minion gives off in response gives him his answer.

“Man, he kept you on a tight leash, didn’t he? Sucks.” Yellow eyes look over the Heartless, taking in the blue markings and Neoshadow-antlers. The bindings tight around the entire body, especially the mouth. 

Silenced. 

Now, Demyx’s never been good with silence. He knows of its importance, being a musician and all that. But forced silence? Silence where it shouldn’t be, the quiet of the tongueless, those who have had their voices stolen?

No, he doesn’t like that at all. 

 

Now, people might say that Heartless are naturally silent. Especially the Pureblooded ones like Shadows. Yet Demyx, in his personal experience, has found the truth to be anything but. 

Not  _ their  _ fault Somebodies don’t have the right bits to hear, that’s all. 

(Everything has its song. Its cue note, at the very least.)

This minion? Heart-Nort’s  _ stolen  _ its song, or at least muffled it so completely that Demyx can’t catch it, no matter how hard he strains. Maybe the song is somewhere else?

“Huh. That’s going to be a problem.”

The Heartless narrows its glowing eyes at him, face somewhat scrunching up in the process. Surprisingly emotional, for something that’s got its face stuck in a permanent grimace. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, dude! It’s not my fault!” Demyx waves his arms frantically at the Heartless. “Not yours either,” he quickly adds on. 

The Heartless grunts at him. 

“Yeah, no. Not gonna work.” Demyx scratches at his scar, deep in thought. What  _ will  _ work? Need some music, first...always thinks better with music. 

He snaps his fingers. 

 

Operas, Rhapsodies, Nocturnes...so many kinds of Tuned Emblems answer his call. A lot more can hear him, in the depths of Realm of Darkness where all Heartless come from and return to.

Minion winces slightly, but doesn’t move outside of that. 

Emblem Heartless as a whole are a bit more...reactive, than their Pureblooded brethren. More keen on listening to their ‘commanders.’ Has to do with how the first ones were made, Demyx’s sure. 

(He doesn’t like to think about it.)

But of Emblem Heartless, the Tuned Emblems are the best kind. Especially Blue Rhapsodies and Marine Rumbas. Being Water aligned like Demyx himself allows for him to have even further control over them. 

Not bad for backup in a fight. Even better for the  _ real  _ reason he’s summoned them here. 

“Okay, ready to play? On a one, a two...”

A crowd of yellow eyes stare at him blankly. Demyx scratches at the back of his head. “Oh right, none of you guys really know me at all. Well, I guess I’ll explain? Or show you. Like this.”

Demyx positions his hands in the air, mimicking the way he used to hold his Arpeggio. Wiggles his fingers and creates...sound. Barely. Not a whole lot, not very loud, Demyx would need his actual sitar to do that. 

Yet enough to get across his point. 

Minion blinks, tilting his head as he floats closer to Demyx. The crowd of Tuned Emblems rumbles. Some play back a few tentative notes in response. 

Demyx raises his hands. “Yes, yes, that’s it!”

The music players grow bolder and louder. Other Tuned ones start their own tunes in reply. Until it’s one big mess. Not a song at all, but a bunch of different instruments each playing their own melody. 

 

“No, no.” This needs control, to be more than just noise. 

No longer a Melodious Nocturne. No longer a Cloaked Schemer. What is he, then, without sitar or book?

Something with music, that’s for sure. Control the music, not let it control him.  _ Direct _ , not be dragged behind. Channel a river, rather than drown. 

(Make the orchestra play.)

He waves his hands at the crowd and once he lowers them again, finds a baton there. 

A Conductor? Oh, he can do that.

“Hm, what do you think of ‘the Cloaked Conductor’?” He asks his companion conversationally. 

His companion, as usual, only grunts in response. 

“Yeah? Well, I kinda like it.”

Demyx twitches the baton, signalling a start to the band of Heartless. 

“Now, let’s see if we can find your song.”

Minion gestures to himself, to his heart-shaped hole. Almost saying,  _ who, me _ ?

“Why else? Now hold on a sec, I think this-” Demyx holds up the Wayfinder, “has a tune to it. Not all of you, ‘course. But enough to get started.”

Demyx carefully listens. To both Wayfinder and his Heartless orchestra. Directs the Tuned through various notes and sounds, to eventually find something that sounds almost exactly like the piece the Wayfinder hides in its glass. In its  _ connection.  _

 

The minion, no  _ former  _ minion, shakes at the song. Hearing it play, the tune smooth and sweet (once the Tuned figured out what the baton really meant, and started playing attention to it). 

He reaches up...and rips the bindings off of his mouth.

“What’s your name?” Demyx shouts, over the cacophony as he quickly draws the music to a close. Some Tuned are reluctant to stop, but their siblings quickly shoot bolts of elemental magic at the disobedient. Soon starting a fight, but Demyx ignores all of that. Completely focused on the word the Heartless before him is trying to say. 

The sound, the way it quivers, in the former minion’s newly freed mouth... _ Terra.  _

Demyx smiles. “Nice to meet you, Terra. Ready to kick ass?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quieter chapter, but I thought you might want to know what happened to Demyx. *Pats Starpoints!Demyx* This bad boy can fit so many headcanons on Heartless in him.   
> Yes, I know Blue Rhapsodies do Blizzard, not Water. Demyx can only control them so well cuz he nibbled a bit of Fantasia's Rhapsody in Blue.  
> We will return to the Organization XIII mess next chapter, with Ajax.


	29. Seaglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In surprising news to absolutely no one who knows him, Ajax would make a terrible spy. Also, a life is saved and Ajax has a Bad Time of his own.   
> A certain replica comes across the aftermath of said Bad Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Blood, torture, injuries caused by torture. EXTREME LOSS OF BODILY AUTONOMY up ahead  
> And uh, sexual attraction, if anyone of you are worried about that.

The Organization sucks just as much as he remembered it did. 

Not as bad as being trapped in the basement of Hollow Bastion for two years, but at least he had some good company there. 

Good company in the Organization? Not so much. Everyone seems almost afraid to interact with him, seeing how Ansem’s apparently claimed him. 

Jerk. 

Ajax can only thank his lucky stars that Ansem doesn’t have much extended interest in him, beyond scaring off other Organization members. Well, not so much that he won’t allow Ajax to leave his side. Because Ajax...he doesn’t think he could stand that.  _ Survive _ that, being so close to the Heartless he ‘devoured’ in another life. 

The Darkness he took in, that’s now so very  _ alive  _ at his heart. Eating him alive in a way his other prisoner never managed...what if he’s stuck like this forever?

Ansem’s puppet, under Ansem’s claim?

His gut rebels at the thought. 

(Don’t think about it, don’t think about, just don’t.)

 

Ajax rolls his shoulders. Again and again. The leather of his new Organization coat is tight around them, uncomfortably so. At least the sleeves are looser, but having to wear gloves that cover pretty much all of his forearms really negates any gain from that. The boots pinch and once again, Ajax wishes for his own cowboy boots that actually fit his weird feet perfectly. 

How can Demyx stand to wear this crap all the time?

(Maybe because he’s not really wearing it...?)

Ugh. Where is that hair tie he got off Ienzo? Having hair in his face is such a pain. Pretty sure Ansem stole it, though Ajax’s not sure why he would. The Heartless doesn’t need to do any sort of haircare, not with every strand staying perfectly in place like they do. Ajax would be jealous, if not for the entire ‘Heartless of the man who personally ruined several of his friends’ lives’ situation. 

“We can’t all have magic hair,” he mutters under his breath, desperately combing his fingers through the mess of white strands. 

Not it’ll be able to keep us with everyone else around here. 

The other problem with the Organization: why did everyone have to be so  _ pretty _ ? Pretty and handsome. Very distracting. 

He wanders into the main room. Thankfully, there are not a lot of people in there. Only one. A familiar blond bearded man, a certain  _ gambler.  _ Who looks up when hearing him enter the room. 

Frick. 

 

“Would you like to play a game?” Luxord fans out his deck in Ajax’s direction. Like it’ll lure him over, make him want to play.

Does he want to play cards with the man that brought him here, to this awful place and fate? Not really.

Is there anything else for him to do? Nope.

His heart burns, with the malicious parasite now sitting in it. A distraction would be welcome. Any distraction. 

“Fine. I’ll play.”

“Excellent choice.”

Ajax leans in on his hands, elbows on his knees. “What game is this?” Even as he asks, the replica flicks through his stolen memories, of times Zexion had spent in the past around Luxord. What games the Nobody liked to play with his cards, the times Zexion had played (if only to keep his skills with small, clever illusions sharp). 

A flash of an almost grin. “Hearts.”

Oh. Ha. “Of course.”

A flash of memory not his. 

(“Hearts? How...ironic.”)

He accepts the cards dealt to him, flicking his eyes over his hand. Any good? Maybe. 

Not bad, at least. Yet not the greatest. 

He could cheat, of course. Shift the cards up a bit with an illusion or too, across the board. But cheating’s  _ bad.  _ So no, he won’t do that. He’ll play the hand he’s been dealt. 

__

“Hey, Luxord, deal me in.”

The table shakes a bit, as the newcomer shoves a foot on top of it. A flash of a single golden eye, a sharp-toothed smirk, a deep scar branching out from underneath an eyepatch...Ajax hurriedly looks away, forcing his eyes back on his cards. 

Luxord does so, shaking his head. “Late, Xigbar. As usual. Heard of showing up on time?”

“As if! I do space, not time. That’s what you’re for.” Xigbar leans forward, until he’s right in Ajax’s face. “So you’re the new guy everyone’s been talking about.”

“And you’re Xigbar.”

Xigbar leans back, moving his foot from the table to his own lap. “Ha! That’s right.”

 

Ajax considers the situation carefully. The two people before him. Resists the urge to pull at his hair.  

Before the entire time-travel thing...well, they had, every once in a while, as a group, discussed how, possibly, everything had gone so wrong. 

They didn’t have all the pieces,  _ couldn’t  _ have all the pieces, not after so much time had passed since the disaster had first begun. But they did their best despite that. 

Enough to figure out that everything started after Xehanort’s permanent disappearance. 

Luxu...had been linked to Xehanort somehow. Knew things about the guy’s experiments that few would know. Had found  _ Terra _ , after Terra had been lost for years, under Xehanort’s control. 

The only reasonable explanation? Luxu had a  _ spy _ . Hiding somewhere in the Organization, before it had collapsed. Someone who knew what was going on behind the scenes. 

Funny how he’s playing a card game with their main suspects for that spy right at this table. Maybe he can test the waters a bit...so to speak. Play it cool. 

 

He’s first. Puts down a Jack of Diamonds. 

“Sooo.” Ajax taps his fingers against his leg. “Did you ever hear the tragedy of the Lost Masters?”

“The hell you talking about?” Xigbar spits out, throwing down a card of his own. Seven of Diamonds. He side-eyes Ajax in the process. 

“Lost Masters...” Luxord examines his cards. Or makes a show of doing so, when his yellow eyes are clearly not looking away from Ajax.  “Hm. Do they have anything to do with a certain box? A black box?”

“A black box?” Ajax perks up at that, putting his cards down so he can gesture with both hands. “One about this big? Really dusty, a lot of locks on it, and  _ Superbia _ carved into the top?”

Both of his fellow players  _ stare.  _ “...You appear to know a lot more about this box than we do,” Luxord says, slowly lowering his own hand of cards. 

Ajax shrugs. “I guess. Just don’t ask me what was in it, it was already open when I saw it. So, do you know anything?”

“Already open?” it’s Xigbar who cuts in this time. “Who opened it?” He scatters more cards across the table, seemingly oblivious to the dirty look Luxord gives him. 

“I...don’t know? Either Luxu or Ava, I think?” Ajax grabs a fistful of his own hair, thinking. Maybe Pride? They never did catch that slippery abomination, the sneakist of Sins...

Hm, maybe these are questions he should be asking Skuld, seeing how she’s carrying around Lust. But she’s never been very good at answering any questions and besides...there’s something  _ weird  _ about her story of taking down Lust. Something itching at his brain, something that doesn’t quite  _ fit _ ...

 

“No way,” Xigbar scorns, “No way your ‘box’ could have opened that way.” His booted feet go on the table, shedding mud all over the cards occupying the same space. 

Luxord looks over at him, murder in his eyes. “Xigbar, do not  _ touch  _ the cards like that.”

Xigbar waves a casual hand. “They’re  _ magic _ , Luxord. Nothing I do will hurt them.”

Ajax considers making a retreat, before the building tension here explodes in his face. Along with everything else. Yet before he has a chance to do so...

 

**_PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN._ **

 

Ajax nearly pukes at the sudden rush of blood to his skull, to the sound pounding its beat there. He manages a groan instead. Next to him, Xigbar isn’t looking much better, hand on his head, nearly fallen out of his chair. 

Luxord’s head goes back and forth between the two of them. “What was that?”

Ajax breathes. His hand goes over his chest. His heart. The seal holds. 

(Sloth  _ stirs. _ “Ira...”)

Ajax rises to his feet, staggering as he almost falls over in the process. “Something’s wrong.”

Before either Xigbar or Luxord can say anything, can stop him, he marches down the hall. To where the walls seem to echo with this agony. 

 

Wrath and Sloth have always been oddly connected to one another. As a result of carrying Sloth, Ajax is usually aware of when things go wrong with Vanitas, who carries Wrath. And vice versa, though Vanitas seems to get into far more trouble than Ajax. But then, maybe that’s the nature of Wrath. Sloth isn’t nearly so active in Ajax’s heart. 

Vanitas is...here? Oh no. 

“I have to fix this.”

 

* * *

 

Following the trail leads him down some surprisingly Dark hallways. But Ajax carries on. Not that Dark is very useful anyway against his eyes that can see through it. 

**_PAIN_ ** .

Helps that the cry gets louder as he gets closer. Helps to find the cause, but not so with Ajax’s growing headache. 

In the end, it’s not Ajax’s eyes that find Vanitas, but rather his  _ feet.  _ Tripping over a body on the ground in the process. 

 

The first thing he notices is the  _ damage _ done to Vanitas’ armor. Huge chunks torn out of it, gashes running down Vanitas’ arms and legs. The entirety of his chest plate...gone. Completely. A strange pulsing black material oozes through those gaps, marked here and there with purplish veins. Closer to a Dark Suit than actual Keyblade Armor, as far as he can tell. 

Vanitas is leaning against the wall. His visor’s somehow still up, despite the broken nature of the rest of his helm. Knowing him, he’s probably glaring out at anyone who passes by, nevermind they can’t see his face.

Vanitas...looks  _ broken.  _

**_PAIN._ **

He starts, once Ajax walks closer into his range of sight. “ _ Ajax?! _ ”

No hesitation. No wondering if it’s Ansem coming up to him. Ajax’s heart gives a happy little flip, to be recognized so easily. 

Once he’s close enough, he kneels. Right next to Vanitas, who’s now making an effort to stop leaning up against the wall and start leaning towards Ajax instead. As well as raising his visor, so Ajax can clearly see his bruised and bleeding face. 

“Why the hell are you here?” he snarls, baring his teeth like a wild animal. 

“Had to keep them from getting Vexen.”

Vanitas snorts. “That dirtbag?”

“That dirtbag has too much information on how to screw up the world to let the Organization have him,” Ajax absent-mindedly points out, spending most of his focus on looking Vanitas over.

His first impression was correct: Vanitas is not doing well at all. He’s shaking, but trying to hide it. Leaking Darkness at an alarming rate. 

**_PAIN._ **

“Yeah, you’re right,” Vanitas agrees. Clearly not saying what got him here. 

Which is fine. Ajax doesn’t need to know that. Well, he would like to know, as well as know if anyone else is here, but he also knows when to pick his battles. And this battle is one he shouldn’t be having right now. 

Especially if what’s he’s getting off of him is correct...

 

“Your seal’s damaged.”

“You think?” Vanitas pants. “How did you manage to guess that?”

Ajax flicks Vanitas’ shoulder. “Stop being a jerk. I’m trying to help you.”

“...Yeah. Sorry.” Vanitas’s eyes (frick, they’re  _ yellow  _ now, when did that happen) widen as he continues to gasp for breath. Hauling in as much air as he can, despite how little good it seems to be doing him.

**_PAIN._ **

Ajax lowers his head to listen to Vanitas’ chest more closely. Despite the desperate breathing, his lungs appear to be alright. And his ribs are expanding normally, as far as he can tell. 

Possibly...some sort of anxiety attack? Vanitas has been known to have them before. 

If that’s what’s going on...Ajax scoots away. Far enough that he’s not in Vanitas’ face, making him freak out, yet close enough to help out further if needed. 

**_PAIN._ **

His shadow’s moving. As Ajax watches,  _ something  _ squirms out of said shadow. Something with horns. Horns and  _ hooves.  _ That then catapults itself at his face. 

Ajax only just manages to burn it to ash just before it makes contact.

“That’s...not a good sign.”

“ _ Fantastic _ ,” Vanitas groans, flopping over against the wall. “Just what I needed. Rage-infected Unversed.” His breathing’s back to normal now, thankfully. 

“Unversed...” Signs of an unstable heart. Good thing he knows exactly what to do in this situation. 

 

“I’m no Naminé, but I think I can try weaving the edges of your heart back together.” Ajax reaches, about to place his hand on Vanitas’ Darkness-covered chest. 

“No.” Vanitas catches his hand by the wrist. “Don’t. You fix it, he’ll just break it again.”

“What? Then how am I supposed to reapply the seal, on a broken heart?”

Vanitas half-shrugs, wincing through the process. “Do your best. You fix my heart all the way, Master’ll notice and rip it open again.” He rubs at his chest with his free hand. “Probably won’t be so lucky next time that the seal will hold, and we’ll have a Wrath-me slaughtering everyone. Or worse, a Wrath-version of my Master.”

“No. That’s not the worst.”

Vanitas blinks at Ajax. “What?”

Ajax turns his head slightly to the side, not willing to meet those yellow eyes headon. “I mean, I think it would be worse if  _ you _ were taken by Wrath, not Xehanort.”

“Why?” Ajax can’t help but look back to see the utter confusion on Vanitas’ face. He shoves at his shoulder in response to that confusion. 

“Because you’re my  _ friend,  _ doofus. I don’t want to kill my  _ friend _ .”

Vanitas bites at his lip, sharp canines showing over the lower lip. “...Are we friends? I attacked you when we first met, Ajax.”

The apology letter that Ajax still has in his back pocket almost seems to burn a hole in said pocket, from the pure realization of its presence. “You apologized,” he reminds the writer of that note. “Saying sorry can be an important first step to making things better. And you’ve haven’t tried to kill me since then.”

His teeth dig in deeper, but eventually, Vanitas nods in response. A short one, with a face covered in doubt. Well, Ajax can deal with that. He’s spent many a night talking Naminé out of her self doubt spirals. Vanitas’ doubt about their friendship is almost nothing, compared to that. 

“Stay still. I’m going to do my best to fix this.” With that put out there, Ajax settles onto Vanitas’ stomach, one leg on each side. He leans forward on the hands he’s just placed onto Vanitas’ chest. Digs his fingers into the weird Darkness serving as makeshift armor. 

He reaches out, mentally, for the heart he knows is there at the end of the connections reaching out from his own heart. 

Vanitas squirms underneath him. Ajax shoves his face into Vanitas’, nearly touching his nose to his. “ _ Stop. _ ”

 

“Hey, Ansem wants yo- what.”

Ajax has a series of revelations in a very short period of time. First, he has his hands on Vanitas’ chest, stuck in the middle of fiddling with said person’s heart. Letting go now, without the proper caution, would be bad. 

Second, he’s...straddling Vanitas, to better get to his heart, to keep him still. Faces almost touching. And how that looks to an outside party. Um. 

Third and last, that outside party happens to be the other Riku replica. Staring at them, yellow eyes so wide Ajax swears they’re about to fall out of his head. 

Sigh. 

“Please, don’t call him over. I’m almost done.”

“He won’t wait for very long,” Riku warns him, eyes flickering between the two of them. 

“I am  _ very _ aware of that. Still, wait.” Ajax straightens himself, returning to his task. 

 

Naminé described the seals they have to hold the Sins back as ‘quilt-like.’ But to Ajax, the seals have always been more of a fisherman’s net than a quilt. Tangled about a heart to keep the Sin from swimming out, yet loose enough to allow connections between hearts to still form. 

The Unversed are a sign of Vanitas’ heart damage, right? As long as those fragments can sneak out, Xehanort shouldn’t have any reason to take a peek. He widens the net. Holes big enough to the chunks to slip and out, yet small enough to keep Wrath trapped inside. Limit the Sin’s influence so it’s just Vanitas bleeding through. 

Makes the seal more delicate as a result, but if Vanitas is going to insist on having his heart remain damaged, that’s the best Ajax can do. 

 

Heaving out a sigh, Ajax gently withdraws his hands both physically and metaphysically from Vanitas’ heart. “Should hold until this mess is over.”

“If we survive,” Vanitas mutters. 

“We will. We have to. Need to see everyone else again.”

(“I made a promise...but I never had a chance to keep it.”)

Vanitas clutches at Ajax’s arm. The contact is so surprising that Ajax doesn’t free himself right away. “In case I don’t-”

“You will!”

“In  _ case I don’t make it _ ,” Vanitas insists, “Tell them...” he swallows, looking incredibly vulnerable, golden eyes bright in his pale face, “it’s not their fault. No one’s fault but mine.”

“It’s not your fault either, Vanitas,” Ajax says quietly, tugging his arm free and standing up. “We’ll make it through this mess. I’m sure of it.”

“Hm.” Yellow eyes close as Vanitas’ body relaxes, passing out on the floor. 

 

That done, Ajax turns to the messenger sent to get him. The other replica. 

“What’s your name again?” Probably Riku, but never hurts to check. 

“Riku.” The replica says quickly, like he’s afraid that Ajax won’t believe him. The en gestures at Vanitas, still laying on the floor behind them. 

“Is he...?” Riku pauses. Searching for words. 

Ajax lets him. If he needs time to find his own thoughts, that’s fine. Everyone deserves a chance to speak for themselves. 

Ajax has always been good at listening. 

“He looks like Sora,” Riku finally says. “Vanitas looks like an older Sora.”

_ Oh _ . That. It’s been so long since Ajax’s thought about Sora, honestly. He died a long time ago, years upon years ago. But that’s not quite true anymore, now is it? Funny thing to think about, that smiling brown-haired, blue-eye island boy wandering the worlds once more. 

Even with meeting him face-to-face, right alongside Skuld...the reality hasn’t sunk into his brain yet for some reason. That he’s alive again. 

(It’ll have to, eventually.)

(So many people...are alive again.)

“He doesn’t like being told that. So don’t mention it.”

“Okay. Um. Are you two...?” Riku bites his lip, lowering his voice, “Boyfriends?”

Ajax almost laughs. But he instead bites his lip as well. Not need to leave Riku thinking he’s laughing at  _ him.  _

“Trust me. I’m not his type.”

(Though Vanitas is awfully good-looking...especially in red.)

 

Now, time for a change in subject! Ajax hates to bring up  _ Riku  _ of all people, but he has to know that answer to this question at least. 

“Hm, you look a bit younger than the last Riku I ran into,” Ajax observes.”How old are you?” So many kids in this terrible place...

“I’m the  _ real  _ Riku,” Riku stresses, “Don’t forget it.”

“Of course you’re real. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Riku eyes him suspiciously. Looking for the hidden punchline. Ajax knows this well enough, he lived it long enough. 

The first Riku had a whole heckload of insecurities that he dumped on every replica modeled after him. And that wasn’t counting what came out from the general treatment of replicas, from their own creators.

Has to fight that mess, whenever he can. 

(“A true Keyblade wielder protects the weak whenever they can.”

“What if the weak don’t  _ want  _ that?” he snipes. 

Terra rubs at his neck as he thinks through this newly presented problem. “Well, I guess you teach them how to protect themselves. And help anyway.”)

“Riku, I’m a replica too. If I told you weren’t a person just cuz there’s another Riku out there, then I would be a hypocrite.”

Wide eyes.  A pause in his step. “You’re...a replica?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always been a replica and always will be.” Ajax pats Riku on the shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

They pause, the two of them, in front of the door that leads to Ansem’s private rooms. Ajax turns to go inside, but pauses when Riku calls out to him. “Good luck.”

Yeah. He’ll need it. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

Ansem, for once, isn’t wearing his Organization coat. He’s back to bare-chest and strange trailing coat. And floating. Lucky him. 

“What do you require of me?” The words come easily. Too easily. 

Ansem doesn’t even bother turning to look at him, before issuing his command. 

“You are not to go near my Self’s apprentice again.”

“...Vanitas?” Ajax can’t help but ask, despite every instinct screaming out to keep quiet. Thankfully, no punishment comes from the question. Only an answer. 

“That is correct.” A gleam in the Darkness. “You should not have intervened in the first place.”

“He would have died!” Ajax bursts out with, stepping towards the Heartless. Ansem turns, slowly, ever so slowly. He considers Ajax with the weight of gravity one might consider stepping on a particularly irritating spider. 

“Fate is fate, and Darkness is Darkness. Neither can be fought and neither can be questioned. If he dies, he dies. There are always more vessels.”

Ajax breathes, “You’re  _ wrong. _ ”

Solid gold eyes brighten, narrowing at him. “What?” A sudden heavy pressure slams itself into Ajax. 

Hm. Didn’t like that, now did he.

“You’re wrong,” Ajax repeats. “You can fight both fate and Darkness. You don’t always succeed against them, but it’s better to try than not to at all.”

 

“You are a  _ replica _ . One holding my essence. Nothing more than that and nothing less.” There’s an implied  _ what would you know _ under that hissed statement. Just a replica and replicas don’t know  _ anything _ . 

The pressure increases on Ajax’s shoulders, his bones, all of him, yet still he manages to lift his chin. 

“We are more than what we’re made of,” he says firmly. Ajax is the sum of Ansem, Riku, Zexion, and Terra, yet more than that. He is  _ Ajax _ , first and forever. And Ajax is a person very different from the four people whose blood and memories live on inside of him. 

(More than the Sin trapped in his core.)

Ansem scoffs. Of course. 

“Is that what you think? Then allow me to  _ enlighten  _ you, to what the truth actually is.”

A white gloved hand wraps itself around Ajax’s jaw, forcing it up so their eyes meet. Yellow into yellow. 

“All of us are bound by Fate to our roles.  _ You  _ are bound to me.”

“No-!” Ajax grinds out as Ansem forces his mouth shut by pushing at the hinges. Snaps it hard enough that he ends up tasting blood as a result.     
Darkness, his own yet not, twists around his heart. Running through his veins, forcing his arm upward. Splaying his hand like he’s offering it for something to be placed there. 

(“It’s super easy.” Demyx runs his fingers across the strings of the small harp in his lap. “To manipulate a heart, a body. Never knew it was that easy, before this.” He gestures to himself with his free hand, to his unnatural eyes, his gaping scar, all of him. “But any Heartless can do it, if they’re aware enough to know they’re Heartless. Just grab that inner Darkness and boom!”)

Ansem  _ smirks.  _

Grabs Ajax’s extended hand and  _ squeezes,  _ grinding the bones together. Ajax can’t bite back the whimper of pain in response, his body no longer under his control. 

(“Is there a way to...stop it?” Ajax can’t help but ask, full of a bitter curiosity. Tired of being a tool, always.)

“ _ Kneel _ .” Ansem lets go of his hand. Ajax feels his body moving in response to the order, lowering itself closer to the floor. He can feel his arm stretching out to Ansem’s again...

(“Stop it?” Demyx considers the question, fingers fiddling with strings. “Well, if they’re already in you, tugging at you, it’s harder. A lot harder. But you could try -”)

A loud  _ crack!  _ splits the air. Ajax’s arm, now at an unnatural angle. One that he forced it into, against the Darkness moving him from the inside. 

 

Ansem pauses. The Dark roar in Ajax’s ears dies down to a low rumble. The otherworldly hands gripping at his heart loosen their hold, allowing Ajax to crumple onto the ground. 

“Your pitiful desperation knows no bounds, I see.” Dark boots lower themselves onto the ground, as the Heartless strides over to his victim. Brutally lifts Ajax into the air by the broken limb. 

Ajax  _ screams _ . Ansem ignores him, examining the damage as one would examine a scratch on one’s brand-new sports car. 

“You are lucky that it is a clean break,” the Heartless informs him. “Further damage would be...difficult to fix.”

Another scream as Ansem sets the arm, wrapping it in Darkness. 

As for Ajax, he starts fading. Something forcing him under, making him  _ sleep.  _ But there’s more than the arm. Something’s wrong, burning at his gut, dripping from his mouth. A hiss from Ansem? Ajax doesn’t know anymore. Vision blurring, arm burning, head aching...the last thing he remembers is, 

“We will  _ talk  _ once you awake.”

 

**Xtra: The Repliku**

The lineup of the Organization has changed. It’s constantly changing. Really different now, from back before the stupid robot data-gathering mission he had go on. 

First it’s that Vanitas guy, that Sora-lookalike. Then it’s someone named Ajax, with the same dark skin and white hair that half of the Organization had. He looks a lot like Ansem, mostly.

 

And he’s a replica. A replica. 

_ How? _

Who would want to make a replica of Ansem? Could you even make a replica off of a Heartless?

Maybe Ajax was a mistake. An accident. 

How could an accident be so strong?

(“Of course you’re real. Why wouldn’t you be?”)

Riku lowers his eyes to his wrist. Where the strange hair band he found rests, as a bracelet. His fingers tug at it. 

Snapping it against his Dark Suit. 

“Am I a-?”

(A  _ person _ ?)

 

There’s screaming. Coming from Ansem’s room. Riku flinches, shoulders hunching into themselves. 

The screaming stops just as suddenly as it began. 

The door slams open, nearly taking Riku’s head off in the process. 

“You, boy!” Ansem strides out of his room, pointing at Riku as he does so. “Follow.”

Riku is quick to obey. He has no desire to get on the Heartless’ bad side today. 

They go down the hall to...Saïx’s room? Huh?

Ansem doesn’t even knock, simply throwing the door open with a wave of his hand. Inside, Saïx blinks at the sudden intrusion, sitting at a desk covered in paper. “What is it?”

“My newest acquisition has seen fit to damage itself. Your assistance is required.”

Saïx may be a grumpy ass, but at least he knows when to move, rapidly standing up to follow Ansem to his room, alongside Riku. 

 

It’s a plain room, just as plain as anyone else’s. A room with a curled up body on the floor, blood pooling underneath. 

Riku lets out a soft cry, one thankfully covered up by the rustle of Saïx’s coat as he kneels next to said body.

( _ Ajax’s  _ body.)

“The damage?” Saïx asks, turning Ajax over onto his back. His right arm is covered in a Dark cocoon, one that looks a lot like Rikus’ Dark Suit in coloring and hardness. His eyes are closed, blood dripping out from underneath them. His lips are bloody too, Riku can’t help but notice.  

“A clean break in his right arm. Bleeding from the eyes and mouth,” Ansem lists off. He scowls, arms folded over his chest. “He needs a potion.”

Saïx doesn’t bother with saying anything, pulling out the asked-for item in question. A glowing green vial, that he breaks to sprinkle over Ajax’s still form. 

Ajax doesn’t even twitch in response. 

Saïx does it again. Ajax still doesn’t move, but the tall man settles back on his heels this time. Somehow satisfied.

“He needs rest for the potions to kick in fully,” he reports. 

Ansem gives a curt nod. 

There’s still blood all over the floor. Really really bright and red. 

 

Since no one’s attention is on him...Riku lets himself out. Careful to close the door quietly enough not to draw any attention.

Ajax’s...hurt. A lot hurt. It’s...scary, even if he hates to admit it. (Only cowards get scared! And he’s no coward!)

He needs someone to talk to. Someone safe, quiet, and won’t tell anyone else that he talked to her. If he’s lucky, she won’t be on a mission right now...

“Xion?” Riku asks quietly, tapping at her door. “I need to talk to you about something...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Ajax will be fine. He just...his replica body just exploded a wee bit in going against some the data installed in him. Namely, Ansem's data. 
> 
> To my readers...my next two chapters chronologically happen about the same time as each other, as well as the chapters of Iron Imprisoner and Seaglass. Neither are written yet, but both are plotted out. It doesn't matter which one comes first, so...  
> What's your choice?  
> Nemesis? Or, Forget Me Nots?


	30. Forget Me Nots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strelitzia meets someone like herself, yet not. Vanitas has only known Strelitzia for a few days, but he would kill everyone and then himself if anything happened to her.  
> Also, the perspective of someone we've seen before, yet not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for neglect and general emotional manipulation.

“No!”

Demyx’s  _ gone.  _

The next Strelitzia knows is Darkness. Surrounding her on every side. Cold and biting into her heart...she chokes. Struggles. For air that doesn’t come. 

(Am I dead? Am I gone?)

She staggers onward, escaping the the arms that have themselves around her into somewhere that is the exact opposite of the Darkness that had just been surrounding her. 

“Larxene. A distraction if you would.”

“Fine. But you owe me!” Strelitzia is faintly aware of Elrena vanishing into the Dark they had come from. Barely. She’s focused on the floor right on, her feet, breathing. Trying not to pass out from the pressure in her skull. 

A hand on her back. Strelitzia barely keeps herself from flinching away. 

Hair brushing against her face, a whisper in her ear. 

“ _ Sleep. _ ”  
  


* * *

 

She wakes up in a simple bed. In a room full of white. Sometime in her sleep, someone has removed the strange black coat she got from Vanitas, leaving her in the orange shirt and khaki pants she got from Olette. The coat is not gone, merely draped over the end of the bed she lays on. 

Her borrowed sandals are gone entirely, to who knows where. 

She’s alone. 

Alone in an empty room, a room with a strange door. 

 

Of course the first thing she tries is the door.

Locked. Looks green and thorny, almost like it’s grown especially for the purpose of being her door. Still locked, somehow. If only she had her Keyblade...

Strelitzia frowns at her empty hands. Reaching out, summoning...her kama come to her hands again. The same orange and blue they’ve been from the start, still sharp. Unchanged. Not her Keyblade, no matter how hard she tries. 

Did having her Heart in Demyx  _ taint  _ her? Did the Darkness take her Keyblade away?

“That’s not right. Vanitas still has his and he’s all Dark,” she thinks out loud. “It can’t be Darkness.”

Then what is it? Is there a way she can get Starlight back?

That answer...is beyond her. For the moment. 

 

Time passes. She doesn’t know how much, but it does. 

They bring her flowers. Lauriam and Elrena both. Bring various pots with plants of all kinds. They always come through the door, thankfully, though Strelitzia is made very much aware that they could pop in with their Darkness anytime they chose by a slightly irritate Elrena. 

Leaves her nervous, thinking about it. 

Lauriam always lingers to watch her receive her gift, with eyes she would call nervous if they weren’t so hard. Elrena never stays long, dumping her presents with leaves still swaying right at the foot of Strelitzia’s bed. Her room fills up quickly, in spurts and bursts, with greenery.

Everything she needs to care for these plants is provided, just like how everything she needs to live is there too. 

(Everything but a way through the door.)

All the while, Strelitzia  _ considers.  _ Checking their leaves for rot, testing the soil’s wetness or dryness...thinking all the while. 

Surrounded by the ever growing greenery, Strelitzia feels more like a greenhouse flower than a person. Like they view her as something too delicate and tender to face the chill of the outside. 

Sure, she  _ likes  _ plants. Always has. (Just like her brother.) But this...it’s like they don’t know what love is, outside of giving her what they think she’ll like. 

 

But that’s impossible.  _ Lauriam  _ knows what love’s like, he’s her  _ brother  _ and a pretty good one. Elrena’s his friend _ ,  _ his  _ best  _ friend. You don’t become something like that without love. 

Without the connections between each and every heart. Unless,  _ something  _ happens to that heart. 

Can you...be a person without a heart?

What would it be like?

 

Lauriam and Elrena are so cold compared to what they used to be, not at all like the people who saved her. 

Particularly the ones around her that got her a body. 

“I hope Vanitas is okay. Both of them. And Demyx,” she confines to a particularly tender jasmine plant. Named Jasmine (of course!) after the princess in Agrabah. 

Jasmine doesn’t say anything in reply, of course. Be weird if she did. 

Demyx...may have gotten hurt. But he’s Heartless, those can’t be killed by anything but Keyblades. He’ll be okay. Right? And Vanitas...she doesn’t know. About either of them. Please, please be okay. 

So many plants, but she can’t stay here forever.

She  _ can’t.  _

People need her. But Lauriam and Elrena need her too. 

(Or do they?)

 

* * *

 

One day, this careful schedule changes. Completely out of nowhere, too. 

A Dark portal opens up in her room, for one thing. And someone far too short to be her usual visitor trips out. 

“Ouch!” A higher pitched voice cries out, as the cloaked individual falls over a potted plant. (A small spiny cactus, currently named Vanitas.) 

“What is this place?” The figure asks, lowering their hood. At that, Strelitzia gasps and the person whirls around. 

“Hello?” Strelitzia’s green eyes meet the other person’s gaze head on. 

“You can see me?” Purple eyes widen. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Strelitzia answers, taking in every detail of this newcomer that she can. Drinking in the sight of someone entirely new. 

Short black hair, purple-aster eyes, sun-kissed skin...a girl her age. 

“Who are you?”

“I’m Xion. What’s your name?” Xion peers around curiously at the plants surrounding her. “Why are you here?”

“My name’s Strelitzia.” Strelitzia rubs at her lips, her face. Unsure what to say next. This... why is  _ Xion  _ here?

 

She doesn’t have any time at all, to think this through, before there’s a banging sound. Coming over from the door. Like someone has just tripped into it. 

“Oh no!” Elrena or Lauriam- ! What would they do, finding Xion here?

“Hurry! The door-!” She loud-whispers, nervously glancing over at said door. Creaking as whoever is on the other side fiddles with the lock. 

Xion, looking panicked and having nowhere else to go,  _ dives  _ under the bed. Right before the door slowly opens to reveal Lauriam on the other side. 

He steps inside, careful (as always) to shut the door behind him. He carries a few blue blooms in one hand. 

Those flowers, she knows quite well. Ajisai, hydrangeas. 

(“Heartfelt emotions, that’s what ajisai mean, in the positive sense.” Large warm hands around her small ones, as they pat soil down together around the bush’s base.)

“Strelitzia.”

“Lauriam, you’re...uh, back.” Strelitzia carefully does not look over to her bed. Her wiggling bed, where a certain someone is desperately trying to fit herself underneath it. 

Lauriam doesn’t say anything, just looking at her. Drinking her in. 

“Can I leave this room?” She hurries to fill the silence with words, as yellow eyes look her over. “It doesn’t have to be for very long, just a little bit.”

A moment of thought. Strelitzia almost holds her breath, waiting for his response. 

“...No,” Lauriam decides. He walks over to her, after placing his flowers on the bed. “Strelitzia, it’s too dangerous for you to leave.” A small smile, that’s really not a smile at all. His eyes, she can’t help but think, remind of the color of dead leaves. Drying, crumpled leaves that are almost dust. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt, wouldn’t you? It’d hurt me, if something so dreadful happened to you.”

She wants to protest, but seeing those cold, cold eyes... _ Possessive  _ eyes. Strelitzia swallows, her arguments caught in her throat.

“Okay.”

A gloved hand pats her on the head. “Good girl. I’ll be back.”

(“What’s the bad meaning? If it has a good, it has to have a bad!”

“Well...” The larger hands pause. “Heartlessness. Arrogance.”)

She rubs at her head. “Of course you will.”

Lauriam seems satisfied by this, turning on his heel to leave. “Good. Enjoy the flowers.”

Leaves, through the door. Gone.

 

“Xion, you can come out now!”

The bed shakes again. Scuffling. “Um. I can’t get out,” comes Xion’s voice. 

Strelitzia can’t help it: she starts giggling. “Wait a second, I’ll be there to help.”

“I’m almost out,” Xion insists, thumping against the wall and floor. 

Strelitzia lowers herself on her knees and scoots over to the bed. Holds out a hand. “I’m here, if you want help.”

A gloved hand reaches for that offered hand almost right away. Carefully, Strelitzia tugs Xion out of the tight space. 

“Thank you,” Xion says, rising to her feet once she’s all the way out. “I should go now.”

 

A way to delay her, just a bit...Strelitzia casts about her room, her room full of plants, before her eyes fall on...oh, perfect! She strides over to pick up a pot full of purple flowers. Flowers she hasn’t quite managed to name yet. 

Xion watches curiously, with eyes almost the same color as the flowers themselves. “What are those?”

“They’re...asters. Shions.” Strelitzia shyly offers the tiny, pale pot. “Would you like them?”

“Oh.” A careful gloved finger reaches out, to poke at the petals. “I think Luxord told me about them, once...do they have a special meaning?”

“They mean ‘I’ll never forget you.’”

Xion’s eyes...they well up with tears, as she looks down at the blooms. “Oh...I forgot that.” She giggles a little. “Exactly what the flowers said not to do.”

“Well, you can take them and be able to remember that way!” Strelitzia shoves the shions into her companion’s hands. “Hurry, before he comes back!”

“I could...take you with me. If you like,” Xion offers. Her fingers wrap around the pot carefully. Like she’s holding an egg, really. Worried that the flowers’ll shatter under her hands. 

 

For a moment, Strelitzia considers it. Actually, truly considers stepping through that Dark Portal with Xion by her side, to wherever Xion had come from in the first place.

The idea of entering that choking Darkness, though... 

She shakes her head. “I can’t. But could you...come back? Maybe?”

“I’ll try. When Marluxia and Larxene are gone, I can try coming back.”

“Thank you,” Strelitzia breathes. “ _ Thank you so much _ .”

Xion looks uncomfortable, to be thanked. “...you’re welcome,” she almost whispers, before quickly vanishing into a Dark portal. With the shions, Strelitzia notes with a smile. 

Strelitzia watches the empty space for a moment. Or two. Wishing with all her heart that Xion didn’t have to leave. That she didn’t have to stay here. 

She turns to her bed, picking up the bouquet of ajisai. All different shades of blue. Strelitzia sniffs them, taking in their sweet scent. 

Whispers her hope into the petals. 

“I hope she’ll be back soon.”

 

* * *

 

Much like Lauriam and Elrena, Xion comes back in periodic visits. Unlike with Lauriam and Elrena, Strelitzia finds herself looking forward to those visits. 

(Does that make her a bad sister, a bad friend, if she doesn’t want to see them?)

(She...doesn’t know.)

Xion is much easier to be around, in comparison. Leaves no prickly guilt in Strelitizia’s chest, and is  _ actually  _ there to talk to. 

 

They share stories of missions they’ve been on, the worlds they’ve seen in the middle of hunting Heartless. Deserts are terrible, especially Agrabah’s, but places with forests aren’t too bad, they both agree. Castles especially are cool to explore. 

Strelitzia recalls the glass slipper from the Castle of Dreams, while Xion talks about a strange tower she’s seen recently in a world called Corona. 

It’s not a lot, just talking. Yet it’s still enough. 

Comforting, to not be so alone.

 

Sometimes, Strelitzia shows off her little growing garden to Xion. Explaining what each plant is and how to take care of them. Xion always watches carefully, and can always point out and name each plant afterwards. 

She  _ cares _ , in a way her other visitors somehow cannot manage. 

 

“I have a friend named Riku and a friend named Saïx here. I think you would like them.”

“Really? I have a few friends too I think you would like to meet.”

“Did you share sea salt ice cream with them? I have some other friends, Roxas and Axel...I miss them.”

“Oh. What does sea salt ice cream taste like?”

“It’s sweet! And salty! And really good.”

“Like caramel?”

“What’s that?”

“Well, caramel looks all brown and it tastes like...”

 

Another time, Xion comes and asks, “Do you know what this is?” Shows Strelitzia a piece of colored paper. 

“A card.” It’s strange-looking, with a girl on the card that looks a lot like Xion. Water, a cup, so many different things on it. Reminds her of a Platform of Awakening’s stained glass surface, the way it’s painted. 

“Do you know anything else about it?”

Strelitzia shakes her head, tapping at her lips. Thinks and focuses. Well  _ she  _ doesn’t know but something in her heart reminds her of someone who might, of memories that aren’t really hers. 

“I think...Vanitas  _ definitely _ would have,” she confines to Xion. Not expecting to know either of those names. 

To her surprise, Xion nods, eyes lighting up with comprehension. “There’s a Vanitas that joined the Organization two days ago. No one’s seen him, but I could ask him. If I’m careful.”

Strelitzia shakes her head fervently, almost whipping her long hair into her face. “No, that’s impossible. Vanitas, both of them,  _ hate  _ the Organization. They wouldn’t want to be here, no matter what!”

“Oh. Something must have happened then, to change his mind,” Xion replies, tucking her card into her coat pocket. Worried, almost, in how she says the words. 

“I hope not. That would be  _ awful.”  _

“Yeah, it would be.” Xion leaves soon after that. 

The last Strelitzia sees of her for a while. 

Until the very last time. 

 

* * *

 

Lauriam and Elrena haven’t been by...in who knows how long. Not quite a week, but certainly more than a single day.

She’s getting thirsty. And hungry. 

(What if they’ll  _ never  _ be back?)

(What then?)

Strelitzia taps her fingers against the brim of her potted hellebore. Ratta-tat-tat. She lifts her eyes from deep red flowers towards the green door. Narrows her eyes at it. 

Maybe she should try for her Keyblade. Maybe this time it’ll come at her call. 

Strelitzia flexes her fingers, removing them from the hellebore (Belle). Focuses. With all her might.

All that comes are the familiar,  _ cursed  _ kama. Letting out a loud noise of disgust, she throws them across the room. They vanish, of course, before even hitting the wall. Wraps her arms around legs, cuddling up on her bed. 

Useless, useless,  _ useless.  _

Why can’t she do  _ anything? _

 

“strelitzia?”

She blinks, sitting up. “Hello?”

“Strelitzia!” That voice-!

A banging at the door. 

“I’m here!” Strelitzia calls back, standing up to walk to the door. To the banging. To  _ Xion.  _

“Oh, that’s good. Wait a second.”

A flash of light and the door...Strelitzia blinks. It’s gone. Completely gone. Xion stands on the other side, holding out a Keyblade. A Keyblade!

“You have a Keyblade?!” She blurts out. 

Said Keyblade vanishes in a flicker of Light. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Strelitzia can’t help but bounce her way to Xion’s side. “That’s great! How’d you get it? Who gave it to you?”

“I can tell you later,” Xion suggests, glancing about. Almost nervous, in the way she does it, quick tight motions of her head and eyes. “Do you have anything you want to take with you?”

Strelitzia looks over her room (her  _ prison)  _ herself. Nothing really stands out. The plants, of course, but she can always get more plants. More flowers. 

Her eyes pause on the coat, still on the edge of her bed. The coat like Xion’s. She walks over and grabs, quickly putting it on. Uncomfortable, but if Xion is taking her somewhere else, she might need it. “That’s it. Where are we going?”

Xion nods. Smiles. “Follow me!” she chirps, turning on her heel. There’s another door, for some reason. Looks like a normal door, nothing like the vined monster that kept her trapped for so long. 

Xion opens it with no trouble, holding it open for Strelitzia. She quickly heads through to a plain hallway. A hallway where everything looks the same.

 

But a hallway that somehow, Xion knows how to navigate. 

She leads her to another room. A room with the same door, but a very different person inside. A room with a man inside of it, at a desk. With blue hair. 

He looks over. “Xion?” His amber eyes widen at Strelitzia, following close behind. “And who is this?”

Xion gets straight to business. 

“This is Strelitzia. Saïx, she needs out.”

The man with long blue hair, ‘Saïx’ as Xion calls him, responds simply. “I see.” 

“Do you have any ideas?” Xion persists in asking. “The Corridors aren’t working for some reason and I don’t know why.”

“The Dark Corridor use has been temporarily been restricted among Organization members.”

“Why?” Xion asks again. 

“...The Superior has not seen fit to enlighten me.” Saïx looks away, briefly, before returning his gaze to Xion and Strelitzia. 

He hums. 

“You two are about the same height. And you...have an Organization coat?”

Strelitzia pulls at the coat she’s currently wearing, the stupid black coat she got from Vanitas. “Yes. It’s  _ awful. _ ”

 

“Well, you will have to wear it a little longer. With the hood up, if you could.” Saïx laces his fingers together. 

“Oh, I see!” Xion gasps, clapping her hands. “She can pretend to be me!”

“Oh...” Strelitzia glances down, at her wiggling, bare toes. “But...”

Saïx looks down as well, only for a few seconds, before quickly looking back up at her face again. 

He seems very intent on focusing on her face, for some reason. 

“You can borrow my boots, Strelitzia!” Xion settles down on the ground, gloved hands going down to yank off said boot. 

“No, Xion. I have spares her size, along with gloves. You’ll need yours.” Saïx just as carefully meets Xion’s eyes as he says this, like he’s been with Strelitzia. Almost like he’s afraid the person he’s talking to will disappear if he doesn’t watch them like a hawk the entire time. “I have a package you can take, that can serve as a reasonable enough excuse for why Xion would be on her own.”

Saïx produces a small package with a flourish, as well as a set of boots and gloves. He offers the items to Xion, who then hands them off to Strelitzia. 

“Are you going with her, Saïx?” Xion asks. 

Saïx shakes his head. 

“Ironically, if I go with her, we will draw more attention than if she went without me. For the greatest chance of success...”

“I’ll have to go alone,” Strelitzia finishes. She resists the urge to tug at her hood. 

Saïx’s eyes, so much like Lauriam’s, yet not, settle on her once more. “Correct.”

“But what if someone tries to talk to her?” Xion asks. “They’ll know she’s not me right away.”

“Xion, the majority of the individuals in the Organization rarely go out of their way to talk to you. If she looks like she’s on an errand,  _ no one  _ will talk to her, with a few notable exceptions.”

“Notable exceptions?” Strelitzia asks, tugging at her coat sleeves. 

“Both of them are out on missions at the moment,” Saïx explains. “As far as I am aware, they will not be returning anytime soon. Now is the best time.”

 

He raises a hand. Briefly, before he pauses in the process and decides to withdraw said hand, for some reason. Saïx gestures at her hood. “Lift that. Cover your face.”

Strelitzia carefully lifts said hood over her head, tucking her hair into her coat. Hiding herself from the world. 

“There. Now you look like me.” Xion smiles. Even under her own hood, her smile is still just as bright as the sun. Strelitzia won’t be able to mimic that, not in a million years. 

“Not at all,” Strelitzia disagrees, “But it’s close enough, right?”

“For this, yes.” Saïx lowers his head. Like he’s about to lower it into his hands. 

There’s something almost  _ sad  _ about him. The way he keeps looking over at Xion, how careful he is not touch to her.

“Are you ready?” he inquires quietly. Barely above a whisper. 

“I have to be.”

“Don’t stop. Keep going, no matter what. Do not run, but do not allow yourself to be stopped,” he advises her, tapping his gloved fingers together as she settles down on the floor to put her new boots on. 

And her gloves. 

Oddly enough, everything fits perfectly. A strange sort of magic, she supposes. Not the strangest she’s seen, but odd. 

“Anything else?”

“Just...be careful.”

She nods at the both of them. 

“I will,” she promises.

* * *

Everything here is so white. She can’t help but keep noticing it, no matter how much of that color she sees here. Maybe that’s why they all wear black, so they won’t risk blending into their surroundings. Vanishing like  _ ghosts.  _

Her borrowed boots click-clack against the floor. Much too loud for this quiet place. Which door, which door...she knows which door, but what if she misses it?

She wraps her arms around the package, holding it tight against her chest. No one’s around. Everything’ll be fine. 

Really. 

(It has to be.)

“Heya, poppet!”

Her breath quickens. She fights the urge to break out into a sprint. 

(“Don’t stop. Keep going, no matter what. Do not run, but do not allow yourself to be stopped.”)

“Whatcha got there?”

Strelitzia says nothing, careful to keep her head lowered as the man draws closer. Wearing the same black coat common to everyone here, the coat she’s currently wearing. Same eyes, or rather  _ eye.  _ He’s wearing an eyepatch on the other side, scarred up on that same side. Ponytail, with silver streaks in dark hair. 

He’s laughing, shaking his head as he talks at her. 

“Nothing? Tough crowd. Saïx bleeding off on you, huh?”

He’s getting close...! Too much closer and no hood can stop him from realizing that’s it’s not Xion he’s talking to. 

Her heart beats an intense drumbeat in her ears, her breath catches. No, no, no!

She’ll be caught!

 

_ Something  _ comes out of nowhere, to throw itself into the one-eyed man. Nearly knocks both itself and the man over in the process. But no, not an  _ it,  _ Strelitzia realizes, eyes catching red armor and dark knotted hair. An angry face twisted into a scowl, eyes much different from what she remembers them looking like. Now the same ugly yellow of everyone else here. (Except for Xion.)

_ Vanitas.  _

“Vanitas,” the name escapes her before she can stop it. Luckily, the noise of Vanitas wailing on the man is loud enough to drown her out. 

She wants nothing more to run up to him, to let him know she’s here. (Xion was right, he  _ is  _ here.) But...that wouldn’t help. Would probably make things worse.  

 

While they’re distracted- ! Strelitzia stumbles down the hallway, nearly falling into her destination as her gloved hand desperately fumble at the door knob. She sneaks one last look at Vanitas. 

Opens the door just in time for her fall for real, into the room on the other side. The package doesn’t serve as decent padding at all, just a heavy thump to fall against. 

Someone’s there. “A puppet? C’mon, this is  _ my  _ room! Don’t fall in here!” A booted foot nudges her in the ribs, not very gently at all. But the voice...

She rises to her feet, raising her eyes. Those yellow eyes, that hair, his face...! 

Strelitzia gasps. 

“Demyx!”

 

* * *

To be fair, Vanitas  _ had  _ been planning on behaving. Just a little bit. Just long enough to figure out a plan on how to properly gut his Master and surviving afterwards. 

The plan went out the window the moment he turned down a hall to see Braig menacing some small figure. 

 

His breath quickens. That figure, short and small, is  _ familiar.  _ Gotta get closer. But first, to stop Braig first. 

He pushes his foot off from the floor to throw himself at Braig’s back. Pushing over both of them into the wall. His fists are ready, even if he’s not going to use his Keyblade for this. No need. Vanitas could take Braig in his sleep. 

He starts swinging, but the old man is surprisingly quick. Twists out of his grasp like the slippery bastard weasel he is. 

“Not house-trained yet?” Braig rolls his eye, arrowguns appearing in his hands with a flash as he heaves out a dramatic sigh. “What a  _ pain _ .”

The purple shots sting like bees. If bees were huge bastards with stingers full of Thunder. Each one takes out his Unversed with ease. 

Vanitas grits his teeth and  _ digs his feet in.  _

Which doesn’t mean much, when his head is spinning and he feels like he’s about to fall over. 

At least the same figure Braig had been bugging is gone. Were they ever there in the first place? Was that person... _ her _ ?

“Well, that didn’t take long.”

Wait, how did he end up on the floor? The ceiling’s spinning. Vanitas dry-heaves, his stomach shaking in his gut. Despite every instinct, reaches out to the Dark. Nope. Nothing. His heart burns, tightening. 

The hum of a weapon getting charged. An arrowgun pointed in his face, purple brightening at its tip. 

“This’ll only hurt a little. Well, no, that’s a lie. It’s going to  _ hurt a lot. _ ”

 

“Xigbar, allow me.” Salvation (if Vanitas can call it that) comes from the most unlikely of places. A certain baby Xehanort, of all people. “I will take care of his...punishment.”

“Alright.” The arrowgun powers down, as Braig rises to his feet. He hums, looking Vanitas over. Vanitas spits at him. 

“Any reason the old man’s so insistent on having him?” Braig kicks him in the gut, causing Vanitas to grunt in response. 

He resists the urge to puke up Unversed all over the man’s shoes. Don’t want another kick. 

“It would be a pity to throw away a vessel that’s had so much effort put into it,” the young Xehanort says neutrally.

Briag laughs. “Can’t have anything go to waste, now can we?” He gestures at Vanitas laying on the ground, before walking away. 

“But if you’re so insistent on your pet, kiddo, you should try training it better,” the Nobody calls back over his shoulder. 

Vanitas hisses at the one-eyed man’s back and makes a rude gesture. He rolls over, to see the young Xehanort glaring down at him. 

 

“You should be grateful.” Xehanort Jr shoves Vanitas back onto his feet. He’s there, when Vanitas nearly falls over again, to catch him by grabbing his shoulder. 

“Grateful? To you? Give me a knife and I’ll show you how grateful I really am,” Vanitas hisses. “Better yet, how ‘bout an Unversed?”

“You never change, do you?”

“We went over this, remember?” is his answer to that stupid question. Never mind it’s probably rhetorical, still stupid. 

A huff of a sigh rustles Vanitas’ thick hair. 

“Why did you attack him? Surely you knew it wouldn’t do you any good.”

Vanitas closes his eyes. 

“Simple...I hate his ass.”

The smell of flowers, a familiar Light that he had recently held in his hands...could have  _ sworn  _ she was there...

But those black coats all look alike. Probably that  _ Xion  _ person he keeps hearing about, whoever that is. Or maybe the baby Ajax running around. 

She couldn’t be here. She  _ couldn’t _ .

 

And that thing Braig said...

“Braig’s-”

“Xigbar,” Mr. Snooty-pants corrects him.

“Fine,  _ Xigbar’s  _ got a point. Why does Master Xehanort want me around? He’s got other vessels as backups, ones less of a pain. Should just put me down.”

“Are you so eager to die?” Junior shakes his head at him.

Vanitas growls. “Just answer the question. I know you have an answer.”

A pause. Then he starts talking. 

“I...declared an interest, in seeing where this will go. My future self allowed to continue that interest.”

“So what, he’s  _ humoring  _ you? Holy shit.” Vanitas coughs. 

“Is he not humoring his Heartless as well, in allowing him access to your companion?” The teen shoots back. Doesn’t deny the fact that his future self is  _ humoring _ him in letting him mess around with Vanitas, the hell. Void. Why’s he so interested in  _ Vanitas,  _ of all people?

“I could still screw things up,” Vanitas can’t help but point out. 

“Fate is sealed,” the baby Xehanort says, as confident as ever, “Nothing you can do can change it, no matter what you think.”

Vanitas closes his eyes again, leaning more fully on the teen. “We’ll see. We’ll see.”

( _ Fuck  _ Fate.)

(And while he’s at it,  _ fuck  _ this Xehanort too.)

 

**Xtra: The Melodious Nocturne**

One of the replicas is in his room, for some reason. 

_ Hugging  _ him. 

“Um.”

Almost as quickly as it began, the hug ends. The replica steps back, lowering its hood. Doesn’t look like a replica. But someone else entirely. For some reason, Demyx’s chest hurts. He summons his sitar, for something to fill his hands. To avoid rubbing at his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” It’s a girl. A girl with long orange hair and green eyes, a girl that he’s never met before. 

“Why are you here?” Demyx gestures to Arpeggio. “I’m busy being  _ benched. _ ”

Not that he wanted to be on the front lines either...which is the way it seemed to be going after the entire Heartless mess. Crazy, really. Him, of all people, having a super crazy Heartless? Who would have seen it coming? Totally nuts. 

The girl straightens. Holds out a package. “Here. Saïx told me to give this to whoever was in this room.”

“ _ Saïx? _ ” Demyx squawks. “Wait, him? Whoa!” He does take the package, though. Quickly opens it up to reveal... a pack of index cards. 

Of course. What else would it be?

Each one covered entirely in a familiar neat handwriting. He squints at the top one, taking in its message in quickly. He grins. “All right! Something useful for me to do? Count me in!”

“What are you doing?” The girl asks, curiously peering over at the cards herself. 

“Demyx Time!” He cheers, allowing Arpeggio to fade back to where the sitar stays when he’s not playing it. “Taking you and me outta here.”

“...But I thought the Dark stuff was blocked?”

“Only for mains,” Demyx explains, wagging a finger. “Us spares, no one cares what happens now that the main gig’s all set up. Sooo...ready to go?”

 

The girl doesn’t answer right away, frowning a bit. 

“...Where’s everyone going to be fighting?”

Demyx shrugs. “Someplace called the Keyblade Graveyard. It’s  _ super  _ dusty. And dry.”

The girl tugs at her hair. Thinking. Then she nods once and looks back at him. 

“You have to take me there.” Determined green eyes stare right into him.

He waves his hands, somewhat frantically. “Whoa, whoa! No way! That’s not safe and Saïx said to take you somewhere safe! He might actually kill me if you got hurt.”

“Not to the fighting! But I have to...I have to ask someone for help.” Her eyes focus even more on his face. Full of a determination that he’s only seen...well, right before he died the first time, at Sora’s hands. 

“And that someone’s at the Keyblade Graveyard? No one there’s gonna help you, it’s all Organization there.”

“...I have to go there.  _ Please _ .” 

Demyx’s chest aches. Again. “Well, I guess. Just there and nowhere else, got it?”

A smile brighter than Larxene’s Thunder beams back at him. “Got it, Demyx!” The girl chirps.

The Nobody scratches at his head. “Wait. You know my name, what’s yours?”

“Strelitzia.”

_ Strelitzia.  _ “Huh.”

(Does he...know that name?)

(...)

(No. No he doesn’t.)

“Well, let’s get this done super fast.”

 

The Keyblade Graveyard is dusty. Like it always is. And hot. And Keyblades everything, rusted and  _ dead.  _ Weird place. 

Somewhere with water would be better. Pretty much anywhere else would be better. 

He’s not supposed to be here. Neither of them should be here. They need to leave soon. 

The girl picks a direction and starts walking.

“Um. We should leave...? What, no?”

What’s weird is that they actually  _ find  _ something, after he follows her for long enough. Trying to get her to leave. 

Of all the things that could be in the middle of this dumb desert, it’s armor. Brown armor. And something that looks like a...Keyblade? Right in front of it, right in its hands. 

A slight frown on the girl’s face, as she,  _ Strelitzia _ rushes towards that same suit of armor. 

“Terra!”

Before his horrified eyes, the armor  _ moves.  _ Clicks and clangs into motion. A rustling sound, the howling of wind through empty plate. 

“I need your help. Both of you.” She looks over her shoulder. At him. “Are you going to help me?”

“What, me?” Demyx shakes his head, waving his hands. “No way! This is a simple in and out! Not this weird...stuff.”

“Oh.” She purses her lips, turning back to the ‘Terra’ armor. Who  _ nods.  _ Holy crap, it’s  _ nodding  _ in response to her. 

“But maybe,” Demyx puts his hands in his pockets, feeling for the index cards hiding there. “Do you need another delivery? Or something? Nothing too big.”

Slowly, the girl smiles again. “I’ve got something, if you could.”

“Great! What is it?”

She tells him. 

“I want you to-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Dark Corridors not working? Man, it's almost like there's something in the Realm of Darkness that's holding a huge grudge against the Organization right now. Imagine that.  
> -Marluxia and Larxene were trying to get back, but you know, Dark Corridor trouble. Someone's not going to be happy when they return...


	31. Nemesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namine talks magic and sows seeds. Sora finally gets a clue. A talk, heart-to-heart. 
> 
> We reap what we sow.  
> But what do we sow?

The second the Teleportation ends, Naminé collapses. A puppet, with her strings just cut. All of her energy, gone. 

The replica falls off her back. Pretty much rolls off, really. She no longer has the strength to prevent it from doing so. 

So much noise. A ruckus, started up by both the group she just Teleported and whoever happens to be nearby on the world she Teleported to. 

Incredibly difficult to stay awake. 

Yet she manages, her knees scratching against the paving stones. She doesn’t bleed. Of course she doesn’t. 

(Nobodies don’t bleed the way  _ real  _ people do.)

Naminé struggles. Yet her strength is gone. She falls. Again.

This time, she doesn’t get back up. 

 

* * *

 

She wakes up, not on the floor like she half-expected, but in a bed. An infirmary bed, if she had to guess. 

Carefully, Naminé closes her eyes again. Listens intently for anyone else in the room, for the people who put her here. 

A beeping sound. The rustling of cloth. Quiet breathing. 

At least one other person. Possibly a second. But definitely one. 

She digs her fingers into the surrounding sheets. 

 

“You don’t have to pretend to sleep.”

Naminé’s eyes fly open. She knows that voice! But he’s dead...isn’t he?

(This is the past, remember?)

(Not dead yet!)

Looking over, Vexen’s there in a white lab coat. Checking on screen that’s been beeping away, attached to her bed. 

“Vexen!” She attempts to sit up, only to side back down against the pillow. 

“You’re still weak, after using all of that magic that you did. Rest.”

“Did we all make it?” Naminé hadn’t been able to check...

“The rest of your group is fine. It is only you that had any trouble.” Vexen glances dismissively at the beeping monitor, turning it off before Naminé has a chance to see whatever results lie on its screen. “The others are throughout the castle, training.”

“And of course, your fellow patient remains asleep.”

The Nobody gestures to the bed across from her own. 

She nearly gasps at the sight of Ventus laying right there. Still asleep, like Vexen said. 

 

“That boy...” Vexen murmurs. “He hasn’t aged a day since I last saw him.”

“An enchanted sleep, to keep his body ready for his heart’s return,” Naminé replies, just as quietly. Ventus...looks so  _ calm _ , there on the bed. Smiling. Like he’s about to wake any second now, not trapped in a slumber that has lasted ten years. 

“And of course that heart would be in Sora’s. That boy seems to get himself mixed up in everything.” Vexen shakes his head. He appears much less washed out in appearance, at least in comparison to their last meeting. But then, that’s what happens, switching from black coat to white. Adds a bit more color, almost. 

Naminé laughs. A bitter, dry sound. “Yes, it certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?”

Sora, Sora, Sora. The connection that ties them all together, no matter how they might deny it. No escaping him. 

(The unbreakable chain.)

Vexen coughs. Readying to speak once more. “You know an Ajax, correct?’

Naminé’s eyes widen. “Where is he?” She can’t help turning her head, though there’s no one else here. As if he’ll magically appear at the mention of his name.

No Ajax. 

 

Vexen coughs again. 

“I owe your friend a debt. He...saved me. From having to go back to the Organization. He didn’t have to do that. I...appreciate it.”

Naminé wants to scream, to wail. Ajax in the  _ Organization,  _ among the monsters that tormented her in her early years, the monsters that still leave Van shaking in the night. But all she lets escape from her mouth is a heavy sigh, along with a, “Oh,  _ Ajax. _ ”

Of  _ course  _ he did. 

For all of his raging against being seen as Riku’s copy, Ajax took so much from his example. From the example of his teacher as well. 

Sacrifice is practically  _ bred  _ into him. 

First Van, then Demyx. Now Ajax. What else does she have to lose? Is Skuld gone as well?

“Leave me alone.” She rolls over, burying her face into the sheets. 

The closing of the door announces that Vexen is obeying her request. Just her and Ventus on the bed. 

Alone. 

Light, she’s so  _ tired.  _ When will this end?

Alone. Alone, where no one can hear her, can see her, where no one is watching...her throat swells up. Her eyes itch. 

She digs herself even further into the thin sheets. 

Unwatched, Naminé  _ weeps.  _

 

* * *

 

That sound...Vexen shakes his head. Taking care to close the door more fully, to shut it out. 

She deserves to have the ability to mourn in peace. 

He turns to the table set out in this side room, where the others are waiting for him. All but Ienzo who has been working on a project of his own...

 

“How is she, Even? She has been sleeping for a week...” Ansem the Wise is the first to speak. Only to be expected. 

“Almost fully recovered. Her mana has returned to normal as far as I can tell.” Vexen frowns. At the paper in his hands. 

“Then is there a problem?” Dilan inquires, tapping his fingers against this forearms. 

“She has a heart. She very  _ clearly  _ has a heart. Yet...” Vexen shakes his head, gesturing to the printout in his hands. “She still has all of the physical characteristics common to a high-ranking Nobody.”

“How is that possible? Surely having a heart would be enough to make her, well, a normal human.” Ansem frowns, taking the sheet to examine himself. 

“Perhaps her unique origins lend her to having these physical characteristics. Naminé can still, in a way, be considered Kairi’s Nobody because she only existed from Sora releasing Kairi’s heart from his own,” Vexen theorizes. 

“Logical. But certainly strange.”

 

“Her and her partner, Ajax, are certainly a pair of impossibilities,” Vexen observes. “A Nobody with the fully completed heart of a Somebody, and a single-use replica filled with the data of  _ four  _ separate individuals.”

“Impossibility or not, at least she’s no troublemaker,” Dilan grumps, “I need to get back out there to make sure Lea isn’t causing any problems.”

He makes to rise. Yet doesn’t leave the room. Not while his partner still sits. 

“Skuld is still...out in the courtyard, as well,” Aeleus brings up. “She eats when we leave her food, but refuses to come inside.”

“Do you know why she does such a thing?” Ansem inquires.

“She almost killed us,” is Dilan’s firm answer. “Maybe she regrets it, maybe she’s afraid she’ll do it again.”

“How?” Even, this time.

Dilan ignores him, turning back to Ansem. Right in front of the door. “You should tell her about Skuld. Perhaps that will help.”

“Yes, that might work,” Aeleus agrees, standing up as well to join Dilan. The pair leave the room through the other door, discussing what to do next all the while. 

Leaving him alone with Ansem the Wise. “Lea and Kairi both have expressed interest in meeting at location of Master Yen Sid’s tower. Perhaps Naminé would like to leave with them?” The old sage poses. 

“Maybe she can do something about Skuld as well,” Vexen agrees. He hurries over to the infirmary door. “I’ll check with her.”

 

Carefully, Vexen cracks the door. The crying is stopped. And the reason why is...she’s gone. “Naminé has left.”

“Well, I will go find her then and tell the news,” Ansem rises.

Vexen nods. “Very well.”

Good luck, he almost adds, before burying himself back into his work. His redemption. Not to mention all of the information Skuld, formly Subject X, has told him...

(He  _ has  _ to bring Roxas back.)

(Before all is lost.)

 

* * *

 

Eventually, she has to stop crying. 

Eventually, she has to get up. 

They need her and she can’t help anyone crying into her blankets.  

So Naminé raises her head and wipes away her tears. Rises from the bed. “Good-bye, Ventus,” she whispers, “I hope you’ll get to wake soon.”

The door poses no boundary. It’s not even locked. 

(Not that it would even if it was...)

 

She sweeps through it, boots clacking against the smooth stone briefly before sinking into softer rugs. 

Very empty, these halls. Much more brightly colored than memory recalls, as well. With actual  _ sunlight  _ coming through the glass windows. No Dusks, floating about the place. No overpowering pressure of Darkness reaching up from underneath her feet. 

How strange. 

 

There’s a room, she automatically heads to. A place that had once been the library, serving as a decent enough shelter from rampaging Nobody hordes. 

She gasps, once the door to said room is open wide enough to see past it. 

Hollow Bastion’s bookshelves were all empty and destroyed by the time she arrived there. 

Nothing like this. 

Floor to ceiling,  _ full  _ with books.  _ Filled  _ to the brim. She skips forward, examining the spines. Books of  _ every  _ subject, all waiting for her. 

But wait. There’s someone here. 

 

A young man with blue-silver hair. Hair all in this face, for some reason. Wearing a white coat. He looks up at her, from the desk he’s currently occupying. 

“Oh. Hello, Naminé.”

“Do I know you?” is her reply. He certainly seems to know  _ her.  _ Judging by his lab coat and other similar attire, he must be one of Vexen’s coworkers, she supposes. Had he ever been to Castle Oblivion?

“Right. We never met. I’m Ienzo, it’s very nice to meet you.” He bows his head, ever so briefly, in her direction. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Castle Oblivion,” Ienzo states. Like that explains everything. And in a way, it does. Another Nobody, or um,  _ former  _ Nobody? What a curious place Hollow Bastion has become. A refuge for Nobodies...like it had been before. But this time, for Nobodies who have had their hearts returned. 

(Could she stay here, perhaps?)

Naminé’s eye skip over the books he has open on the desk. All about making magical illusions...

“You do illusions? Like Ajax?”

 

Ienzo’s head jerks back over to her. “You know Ajax?” 

“He’s my best friend,” she explains. She pulls out a nearby chair, settling down in it right next to Ienzo. “So, what are you trying to do?”

“Do you know anything about illusions?” He answers her question with one of his own, index finger tapping the page of the nearest open book. “I know Ajax did, I saw his.”

“Oh, I do illusions differently from Ajax. Or you, for that matter.” Naminé leans back in her chair, considering how to explain. Exactly. 

She has a feeling that Ienzo might appreciate the extra information. 

“Ajax...produces actual light. Makes the image of an object  _ actually  _ appear, much like you do yourself.”

“ _ Did. _ ”

“Hm?” She looks up, startled. 

He shakes his head, tugging at his coat sleeve. “Never mind. Go on.”

She leans forward again, reaching out to flip the pages of the book Ienzo has on the table. “I directly trick the mind. Nothing changes in the reality, but your brain only sees what I tell it to see. I can do a little light and shadow, but most of my illusions are outside of that area.”

Ienzo taps the pages. “Not the eyes?”

Naminé shakes her head. “Your eyes take in the information, but the mind is what makes sense of it. Also, the brain is where memories are  _ physically  _ kept,” she explains. 

“Your illusions then are an extension of your memory magic,” Ienzo observes.

(“Your ability to control the mind is utterly unique. How did a freak of nature like you come out of a Princess of Heart?” Lilith’s grin is far too wide, for her words.)

 

She shakes her head slightly, returning to the conversation at hand. 

“Right. I can show you things, but you should ask Ajax later for better tricks.”

“...Yes. It would be good to see him again.” Ienzo returns his piercing stare back to the book. Flips through the pages. “I appreciate your help.”

“Don’t lie, I didn’t really help you at all.” Naminé taps her chin, glancing about curiously at the full bookshelves surrounding them. 

She can’t begin to imagine how much information is sitting around her in those pages right now. More than she could ever possibly learn. Yet Naminé wants to try anyway. Perhaps, a trade will work? To gain more access to these shelves. 

“...I could try to help you figure out different magic. If you like,” she offers. “You don’t have to stick to just illusions.”

Ienzo’s eyes widen, what she sees of them under that hair. “I don’t, do I? You’re right.”

He shuts the book right away, turning to fully face her for the first time. 

 

He seems  _ enlightened  _ by her words _ ,  _ by lack of a better word for it. “Do you have any suggestions, for what I should try first?” 

“My other specialization is Ice,” Naminé informs him. “We could try that, if you want.”

“Ice? How curious.” He laughs a little to himself, shaking his head. “Like Even.”

“I...suppose so,” Naminé allows. She hadn’t thought of it in connection to  _ Vexen  _ before, but now that it’s pointed out, it’s undeniable. 

(Cruel and cold. Immoveable. Harsh.) 

(All words she’s been called before.)

“It doesn’t really  _ fit _ . He’s much too...” Naminé searches for the words to explain, waving her handless arm in circles. 

“Not quite as cold as you would expect, hm?” Ienzo finishes for her. “Well, he used to fit that cold stereotype a lot more, in the Organization. Before the end.”

He stands up, closing the book on the desk with a finality to it. “But enough about that. Could we do...Fire maybe?”

“Of course.” She glances about the room, the library full of very flammable paper. “Maybe somewhere that’s less likely to burn down if we mess up?”

Ienzo starts at that, looking around the room himself. Appearing a little...embarrassed, by his oversight. “Oh! Right. Um...we could go outside?”

Naminé smiles and nods. 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

* * *

 

Teaching Ienzo is an interesting experience, in a way that is very different from both Kairi and Axel. 

Their hearts are already in tune with their souls, working together to power the spells they cast. An end result inevitable to any who wield a Keyblade. A Keyblade makes everything easier, gifts an easier time accessing magic in exchange for your heart becoming a blaring beacon to any Heartless in the vicinity. 

Easier to fight, easier to die. 

So Axel and Kairi have their wills, their hearts, working as one. Every Keyblade wielder does, in order to summon a Keyblade in the first place. 

 

Ienzo’s heart....is not. In unison with his soul, she means. 

Not difficult to guess why, from what she knows of his past. Spending so long with heart and soul separate would make it difficult for anyone to get them properly aligned. 

“Hm. Do you know what the problem is?” she asks, after watching him fruitlessly attempt to light a candle using Fire for the seventh time. 

The candle, like all of the others, flops over. The wick left completely unlit. 

“If I knew what the problem was, I wouldn’t be having this trouble,” Ienzo bites out.  _ Finally  _ losing his temper. 

(Ha, she  _ knew  _ he had a limit!)

(...Wait. Had Vanitas rubbed off on her?)

“The trouble is with your heart.” 

Ienzo’s hands right away fly to his chest. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, you’re fine. The trouble with your heart is that, right now, it’s in the way,” she explains, gesturing to his chest as well. “As a Nobody, you used magic running on pure  _ soul _ . Pure will, like what was making your body function in the first place without a heart.”

“Are you saying to use magic again, I have to lose my heart?” Ienzo looks...discouraged by that conclusion. Not the way she was trying to go with this at all!

“No, no!” Naminé waves her hand at him. “Only it’s harder for you because you’re used to fueling your magic with the soul that’s now devoted to keeping your heart going. You can change that, though.”

“How?”

“Try casting with a scroll first,” she suggests, “Once you’re used to using magic again, you can return to doing spells without it.”

“Casting with a...scroll?”

 

“Oh right. I forgot that mages don’t really do that here, in Radiant Garden.” Naminé digs through her inventory, eventually pulling out a simple Fire scroll. “Here, use this to channel magic.” 

Ienzo accepts the enchanted parchment gingerly. “Just like my lexicon,” he murmurs, examining the sketched-out instructions carefully. “It says to place my hand here...”

“Yes. Try it,” she urges, taking a few steps back. Then reconsiders. Maybe she should move back a bit further?

“Alright.” Ienzo breathes out. Puts his hand down as directed.  _ Casts.  _

Boom. Fire spouts out, to hit the nearest candle. He smiles, almost a grin on his face as he ducks his head. “I did it!”

“Great job!”

The candle is...completely melted. As are the surrounding candles. And the ground is one big burn patch, almost like glass from lightning-struck sand.  

“Next time...try to make it smaller, maybe?”

 

* * *

 

She leaves Ienzo to his experimenting. Considering where to go to find Kairi and Axel next, wherever they may be on this world. 

Ajax is gone, as are Demyx and Van. She doesn’t know where Skuld is. But guessing by how both she and Ajax landed...possibly she’s with another Light. Which isn’t very helpful at the moment, how can she find her?

 

Perhaps, through same other magic. Magic strange and new, like the scroll she offered to Ienzo. 

So many tools...that she’s neglected. Led fade away into the back of memory. She has...oh.  _ Oh _ . She had forgotten that she had  _ those.  _

Oh, her mentor would be so ashamed of Naminé. She can almost hear her scolding now. 

(“Foolish girl!”)

Forgetting her resources like that. She’s the mage of the party, she can’t do that!

(Or are you purposefully forgetting them?)

She has two left...she should have used one of them. Just one would be enough to save Vanitas from his awful fate. 

Yet...Naminé slowly closes her fist. Examines her pale skin. Her arm. Her body. 

(Kairi’s body.)

Everything has a cost, especially magic. Certain  _ kinds  _ of magic, most of all. Does she want to risk changing the last thing she has of Kairi so?

(“Thrice. Like all things of True Magic, my gift may be called upon three times.”

“Really? What’s the price then, for this gift?”

The fairy nods approvingly, stroking the orb of her staff. “The first calls for no due. The second...it is difficult to return to your own form afterwards. A mark remains. As for the third...”

“I don’t come back,” Naminé finishes for her.)

Her body’s shaking. Why is it shaking?

Her hair’s all in her face, red as ever. It looks so  _ wrong.  _ Leaves her ill, just looking at it. 

She pushes it out of her face, only for the strands to flop back down. Too long, too  _ everything _ . 

Why can’t she breathe?

 

“Are you alright?”

That voice...Naminé winces. Turns around, to view its source. 

DiZ, or Ansem the Wise, as he is known as now, is nothing more than an unwelcome reminder of a past that leaves her filled with distaste. 

Sure, she may have helped Sora recover his memories, but only after she had so thoroughly destroyed them in the first place. 

She’s better than that now. She had to be. 

“Ansem the Wise,” she acknowledges him. Meeting his eyes head on. She won’t bow to him. Never again. 

He’s neither in the cloak of DiZ nor one of the Organization’s coats. Just a simple lab coat like everyone else she’s met her, and a red scarf. 

Red scarf...hm. Why is that so familiar?

She puts that nagging aside, to ask Ansem a question. “Did you want something?”

The old man looks her over. As if not sure what to do with the opportunity she’s granted him. Yet eventually, he asks her his question. 

 

“Why did you bring you and your companions here, with your spell?”

“I...” Naminé hesitates briefly, before shaking her head. Speaking more quietly. “This is where I met Ajax again. Here in Hollow Bastion.”

“You mean Radiant Garden.”

“No, I mean what I said. Hollow Bastion,” Naminé repeats, forehead wrinkling in annoyance. 

“You mean...this world falls to Darkness?”  _ Again,  _ goes unsaid, a ticking bomb between the two of them. Ansem’s eyes are amber, looking deep into her own. 

“I don’t know how it happened.” Naminé looks away, fiddling with her sleeves. “Only that it did and Hollow Bastion returned as a result.”

“You were dead by then, I’m pretty sure,” she adds. Not like that’s any comfort, not really, but it’s all she has to offer in a situation such as this. 

He closes his eyes. “I see.”

“We’re to stop that. Stop such awful events from occurring.” She raises her chin. Trying to convince him or herself, she’s not exactly sure. 

 

A pause. Then, Ansem inclines his head. 

“One of your friends is here. She’s been outside for several days now, and nothing we do can convince her to come in.”

Naminé gifts him a curt nod. “Thank you.”

(Why couldn’t he tell me this before...?)

“Where?” she’s forced to ask.

Ansem gestures right down the hall. “Keep going that way, and you’ll get to the front gates. She’s just outside.”

“Alright. Good-bye.”

“Also, Naminé.”

“Yes?”

“Your friends, Kairi and Lea...they will be leaving for Master Yen Sid’s tower soon. Will you be leaving as well?”

Naminé considers the offer, head tilted. “Alright. Why not? I’ll come.”

Ansem nods. “Very well. We will see you off, when the time comes.”

She turns on her heel and walks. Walks faster and faster, as if to escape the reminder of her past crimes dogging at her heels. 

Ansem does nothing, only watching her leave. 

_ Good.  _

 

* * *

Naminé goes right down the hall, the one that leads to the main gates. The two guards nod to her as she passes. Out the gate, to the gardens outside. 

 

Skuld is there, with her very familiar blindfold. Sitting against the wall. Waiting. Doing nothing. 

Just as beautiful as always. Even covered in dirt as she is. Purple really does suit her. 

“Skuld.” Naminé greets her civilly. 

“Naminé.”  The blind woman returns. 

“They say you’ve been avoiding everyone.”

Skuld tilts her head towards the blue sky far above. “I guess so.”

The woman’s never been exactly...talkative, especially whenever everyone is present. Naminé’s not sure if it’s shyness or something else. Something else from whatever happened to her, before she joined up with them. Maybe even something connected to how she carries Lust.  

(...It was Lust, right?)

(It had to be.)

(What else would it be?)

 

Skuld’s Keyblade, as always, is in its familiar form of guiding stick by her side. Once more, Naminé’s fingers itch to examine it. 

She’s never quite managed to take a look...

Skuld taps her staff against the ground. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Why are you here, by yourself? What happened?” Naminé shoots back. 

Skuld bites at her lip. “I...I...almost  _ killed  _ them.” Tears, the lightest of tears trickle down, from underneath her blindfold. 

“What? Who?” Naminé squats down, right by her side. Careful not to touch the Keyblade, no matter how her fingers itch.  

Skuld jerks her head in the guards’ direction. “Aeleus and Dilan. The guards. My magic...my  _ Doom  _ got out of control.”

“Doom?” Naminé blinks, looking Skuld straight in the face. “You have that?”

(Why didn’t you say anything?)

“Yes. But it’s never been like that before. I don’t know what happened.”

“Do you...do you want me to take a look?” Naminé offers, scooting a bit closer to her. 

Skuld shakes her head. “No! Not now. I just...won’t use it anymore.”

“That won’t work forever, Skuld,” Naminé warns, tapping her hand against the wall. “Magic has a way of escaping when you don’t want it to.”

Skuld bites her lip again. Turning her head away. 

“Yes, but just a little bit longer. Until all of this is done. Then you can look.”

Knowing that’s the best she’s going to get out of her, Naminé dips her head. “Alright. Just...be careful. Until then.”

A moment of silence, as Naminé tries to figure out what to say next. 

 

“We’re going to Yen Sid’s tower soon. Would you like to come with us?” Naminé extends a hand in offering. Tapping Skuld’s shoulder gently. 

Skuld hums. “Do you know who will be there?”

“Well, nearly everyone, I suppose. All the Lights for the battle up ahead.”

Skuld pushes against the earth with her hands, standing up to prop herself up against the wall. “Alright. I’ll come.”

“That’s...good.”

(Was it?)

(The end draws near.)

 

* * *

 

Sora hums to himself, a smile plastered onto his face. He’s gone to all the worlds he can, hurt by the Organization. He even met Riku at the last one, after fighting the Dark Baymax. Apparently he and King Mickey found Aqua!

Everything is going great!

(Except that he doesn’t have the Power of Waking yet.)

He heads over to the tower. Only to pause when his eyes catch a flash of familiar purple. A face with a blindfold, turned in his direction. 

(His heart hums.)

 

“Skuld, you’re here!”

Skuld smiles in his direction. “Yes. I am. I wanted to see you.”

Sora scratches at his head. “Um. How can you, uh,  _ see  _ me?” Since she’s blind and all...

Skuld laughs, shaking her head. “It’s a figure of speech. I can use it however I want. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Sora’s heart warms. He grins even wider than ever, though he knows she can’t see it. “I’m glad you’re here too!”

“Sora, you know her?” Riku asks. 

“Yep! We met in Ardendelle! It was pretty great. Oh!” Sora turns to Skuld, suddenly remembering something. “Did you find the friends you were looking for?”

At that...Skuld almost frowns. Why is she sad, did she not find her friends?

“I did...but I’m not sure...I’m not a good friend,” she admits, clutching at her skirt. 

“That’s alright, you can become better. Riku wasn’t very good at being friends for a little bit, but he got better.” He pats Riku on the shoulder. “Right?”

Riku nods, seeming a bit sad yet smiling anyway. “Yeah. I’m glad you think so, Sora.”

“If you say so, Sora. I’ll believe in you.” She smiles once more. 

Sora goes up to the front door, with Donald and Goofy right on the heels. Pauses. Skuld isn’t close to the door of the tower, doesn’t seem to be coming over.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Skuld shakes her head, clutching her guiding stick in her hands. “No. It’s not for me.”

“It doesn’t have to be!”

“No. Just...go on. I have to think.”

“Okay. Just...don’t get lost?” Sora tries weakly. He’s not even sure why he said that, but it seems to be the right thing to say, because Skuld laughs in response to that.

“I won’t! Good luck.” She waves a hand, turning to head off into the trees. 

Sora returns to the door. Opens. And heads inside with some of his best friends in all of the worlds!

 

At the top...Master Yen Sid’s room is almost full, there are so many people.

A lot of people here...King Mickey, Master Yen Sid, Lea, and Kairi! “Hi everyone!” He waves. 

They all smile back at him, giving him their greetings. Even the blue-haired woman whose there too. 

( _ Aqua... _ )

But then his attention gets caught up by what lies in the center of the room. 

There’s a body in the room. Blond and looks like someone he knows...

“ _ Roxas _ ?”

“That is Ventus, one of our missing Keyblade wielders,” Master Yen Sid corrects him. “He is who you need the Power of Waking to save. Do you have it, Sora?”

He smiles, scratching at the back of his head. Hating to give his actual answer. “Uh, not yet?”

“Oh, Sora,” Donald shakes his head. Which is...you know,  _ Donald.  _ But what makes it worse is that  _ Riku  _ does too. And the blue-haired woman looks really disappointed by his answer. 

(She must be Aqua.)

(That Riku saved. Without you.)

That same blue-haired woman turns to someone else in the room. Someone who seemed to vanish into the shadows, despite the brilliant white she wears. 

“You said you would be able to. Move Ventus’ heart to his body.”

“Wait, I have  _ Ventus’  _ heart!?” Sora yelps, hand moving to his chest. 

The strange white woman bows her head. “Yes. You do. You’ve had it a very long time. Don’t you remember?”

(“Hey...can you hear me?”)

( _ My second chance. _ )

“ _ Oh _ ,” Sora breathes, eyes widening. “Is that why he looks like Roxas?”

“Or Roxas looks like him, yes.”

“Who are you?”

A small smile. This woman is so very pale, like a ghost from Halloween Town. But her hair makes up for it, being so bright red with white streaks in it. 

Her eyes...why does his heart ache?

“I am Naminé.”

Sora jerks. “No way! You can’t be Naminé! She’s Kairi’s Nobody and you’re...” He gestures at her. “Too old?”

“Sora!” Donald yelps.

Goofy shakes his head. “Garsh, Sora, you don’t tell a woman that she looks old!”

Naminé laughs. Giggles, lifting up her hand to cover her mouth. “It’s fine. You’re absolutely right, by the way. I am still Naminé, though. Naminé from the future.”

“Ooooh!” Sora nods. “Like that Xehanort from the past?”

“Yes. Exactly.” Naminé smiles again. At this point, Sora notices...she has  _ only  _ one visible hand. Her left one. Her right arm...where is her  _ hand _ ?

 

“Whoa, I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Crazy. Weird to think Xehanort’s doing the same thing...”

He’s not sure why everyone’s so surprised by that comparison, it’s true isn’t it?

 

“I could wake Ventus, but it would be safer for both Sora and Ventus if Sora did it himself,” Naminé continues

“Me?” Sora points to his own chest. 

“See, Sora? You need the Power of Waking!” Donald cuts in, elbowing him. 

“To wake him up,” Sora states, not quite asking. 

“The Power of Waking ‘wakes people up,’ as you put it, in the same way a Keyblade can unlock a door. Technically, yes, but there’s so much more to it than that,” Naminé says smoothly, tapping her fingers against the end of her right arm.

“How do you know this?” Aqua cuts in. “That’s something only Keyblade Masters should know about.”

“Well, maybe I’m a Keyblade Master,” Naminé says. Almost jokingly. But there’s something serious in her eyes about the way she says it.

She seems... _ sad _ . What’s wrong?

And here he is, unable to help  _ anyone.  _ Again. 

 

“ _ Sora _ .” Startled, Sora snaps his eyes to Naminé’s. To the deep blue ones staring into him. Like Kairi’s but not, deep blue but not as dark as Kairi’s. 

“You are not stupid. Not knowing something that no one will explain to you  _ does not  _ make you dumb. Ignorant, yes. But that can be fixed.”

Naminé taps a finger on his nose. A gentle smile. “What would you like to know?”

“Um. Uh.” Sora scratches at the back of his head, giving her a winning smile. “I don’t know?”

Naminé hums in response, nodding once. “All right. Is there anything you would like to know, the rest of you? Sora, if you have any questions, you can just ask.”

“There are some in this room not prepared for this knowledge, Naminé. Perhaps you should limit your offer,” Master Yen Sid speaks up once more, folding his hands together on his desk. 

 

Which...Naminé gets  _ mad.  _ In response. 

(Why? Why is she so angry about this?)

“Knowledge is  _ power _ . Xehanort has so much of it and we need all of the information we can get, to fight him,” Naminé hisses. 

Naminé grits her teeth, looking ready to  _ spit Fire.  _ Ready to fistfight the old wizard himself. Sora’s never seen  _ anyone  _ respond to Yen Sid like that before.  __

“I won’t let  _ anyone  _ die. I won’t!”

“Naminé...” Yen Sid starts, “Some knowledge is dangerous. To let all know of it makes the risk of it occurring even greater. Such as the Keyblade War Xehanort seeks to have.”

Naminé takes a deep breath. Shakes her head. 

“I understand. Really, I do. But that doesn’t work. Not for this. Not when the box has already been opened. Our enemies know, so we must too. Or risk falling prey to a trap.”

She meets Yen Sid’s eyes and refuses to look away. A feat Sora himself has never managed.

For once, it is Yen Sid who lowers his gaze first. “Very well. Only recall to be as cautious as you can, with what you share, Naminé.”

“I will.” Naminé nods back at the Master, filled to the brim with confidence. 

Is the Naminé he knew like this?

(Somehow he doesn’t think so.)

 

She turns back to him. “To use the Power of Waking, you first have to make a Dive.”

He blinks. “A Dive...?”

“You know when you dream, and there are glass circles with people’s faces on them? That is what happens when you make a Dive. Feel yourself reaching out for Ventus’ heart.”

Well. If it’s that...

And here Sora thought this ‘Waking’ business was going to be more complicated. 

“What else do I do?” he asks quickly. 

Aqua looks so  _ sad _ . Like he was, when Riku and Kairi had gone missing. He has to fix that!

“Use your Keyblade. Open what lies before you. You’ll find him and wake up then.”

“...So I shake him awake?”

“If that’s what works, then yes.” Naminé shrugs. 

Sora takes a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll try it.”

“Sit down first. I’ll keep an eye on you,” Naminé advises. 

Sora does so, leaning against the wall.

He closes his eyes. Falling asleep, almost, is  _ easy.  _ He does it all the time, after all!

_ Reaches.  _

 

And there he is. Floating in the Dark. 

There’s...more glass platform around him, more than he could ever count. Yet his heart tugs him right to the one closest to his. 

That face on the green glass...looks a lot like  _ Roxas.  _ Almost exactly like him. 

“Hello?”

No answer. 

Yet somehow, some part of him knows what to do. Sora pulls out his Keyblade and points it at the sleeping face. Focuses. Just like opening a Way In-Between, like he did fighting the Organization the first time. 

Something clicks. Something  _ opens.  _

The glass fades away. 

 

“Sora! You did it!”

He opens his eyes and across the room, he sees the sleeping boy’s eyes open too. 

“ _ Ven _ !” Aqua cries out, surging forward to wrap her arms around him.

“Aqua!” the boy, Ven, cries back. Hugging her with all of his strength. Once the hug is done, Ventus turns to Sora himself. 

“So you were my second chance...”

The blond boy smiles. Offers Sora his hand. 

“I’m Ventus. But you can call me Ven.”

 

* * *

 

Once everyone has split off into their little groups, Naminé goes off on her own. Preparing for tomorrow, when the war begins, she’s sure. Saying their piece to their loved ones before they are possibly silenced forever. 

(No one survives a war like this, whole.)

She has her own preparations to make. Alone.

(Though she hopes Skuld is okay...)

Naminé takes a deep breath. Closes her eyes. 

_ Falls.  _

 

Right down to her Heart. A proper Dive. 

There Naminé is, there her Heart is. 

She very carefully does not look down at the weapon her sleeping self holds. Instead, Naminé closes her eyes and drops once more. 

Into the world beyond the surface. 

Opening them to...white. A familiar white. 

The world of her heart looks like Castle Oblivion. Of course. What else would it be?

 

There is a statue of stark black, that stands at the center of her world. A reminder, of what she holds, trapped and caged, under the surface. 

The lace veil covers that same statue. Wraps itself tightly about it. Yet it’s not lace at all. Naminé draws close, close enough to rub her fingers against that lace. Against the  _ chains,  _ millions of links so small and connected. A proper cage.  

Through the veil, the statue of the woman almost appears to be wearing a mask. A mask looking much like a snake’s head. 

At the sight, Naminé feels her body tingle. Carefully, she lowers her gaze and walks right on past. To the  _ real  _ reason she’s here. 

 

A series of stained glass windows. Each one representing someone important to her. Naminé walks to the centermost one. Created from shards of four different colors, forming one cohesive individual staring back at her. 

The first person she ever Woke. 

(“No, I won’t let you have him!” Sloth won’t take him away from her!)

“Ajax,” she murmurs, running her hand across the glass. Closing her fingers around the edge of the frame. Pulls and reveals behind it, a gaping opening that leads out into Darkness. 

There’s a chain, there. A simple silver chain stretching out into that same Darkness. 

Stronger than steel, the strongest connection she’s ever managed to forge. A connection just for her and the individual that lies on its other end. 

(“Are you jealous, that Ajax and I have a stronger connection than the two of us?” Vanitas taps at his armor. “Hm. No, not really. Why?”

“Well, you and Ventus had such a strong connection...don’t you miss it?”

Vanitas snorts, shaking his head. “Ventus is  _ dead _ . Doesn’t matter now. Go on, live your best life and don’t worry about me.”)

Naminé pulls the chain. And falls into the Dark. 

 

* * *

 

It’s not very hard at all, to find his heart in the Dark In Between, with how bright it shines for her. Naminé soars over, supported by the chain she carries in her own heart. 

He’s...standing on his heart. Actually present. Not a good sign, but Naminé’s too excited to care much about that. She can  _ see _ him!

 

She calls out to him. 

“Ajax!”

Ajax looks up, clearly surprised by her presence. “Naminé? How are you here?”

“Our hearts are connected, how could I not get to you?”

The crash of thunder in the background. Loud enough to shake the stained glass platform Ajax stands upon. 

“What was that?” Sounded almost like words...

“Just thunder. Don’t worry about it.” Ajax shakes his head, waving a hand. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“I had to find you!” She cries out, spreading out her arms. 

“...Naminé. You should leave,” Ajax says solemnly. “I don’t want  _ him  _ to find you.”

“ _ No _ . They’re not winning this. Not now, not ever.” Her eyes are determined. “We won’t let them.”

Ajax huffs, almost laughing. “Of course not. I’m just...worried about what might happen in the process. What we might lose.”

“To lose...” she muses, trailing her fingers through the Dark between them. “We’ve lost so much already.”

“There’s always more to lose, for us.”

“One day, it won’t be like this.” 

“...I hope so.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Ienzo was talking about you!” She laughs. “Worrying about you! Are you okay? He’ll want to know.”

“He’s...worried about me?” Ajax’s cheeks and ears darken. He rubs at his face, does his typical hair tug. 

Naminé smiles, flopping over onto her back in the air. Looking at her best friend’s face upside down. “They all are, over at Radiant Garden. Apparently you made  _ quite  _ an impression.”

“Hm.” He folds his arms over his chest, looking away from her. His blush remains as bright as ever. 

She rolls over onto her front again midair, propping her head up on her right arm. Her nub. Scratches at her nose ever so casually. 

“After this is over,” she starts, glancing over at Ajax. “What do you want to do next?”

“Do next?” He repeats, turning his eyes out to the Dark surrounding them. “After all of this...I want to see you again.”

Naminé giggles. “That’s great, but that’s not what I meant! What do you want to do with your  _ life _ ?”

“Uh. I don’t know. Maybe not spend every day fighting, that would be nice...” he looks down wistfully at the glass guarding his heart. 

Naminé, for the first time, lets her eyes linger upon that same glass as well. Lowers herself down through the air, until her feet almost touch it. 

It’s.... _ scratched.  _ Deep goughs running through Ajax’s sleeping form, like someone was trying to tear him open. There are the familiar four symbols repeated over and over again, in his border. Yet the Heartless one glows the brightest of all, overshadowing the others for some reason. 

To investigate further, she’ll need to get closer. 

 

The platform makes a sound, the minute her feet settle down on it. 

**_TING._ **

The thunder...is suddenly much closer.  _ Much, much  _ closer. 

_ “So this is where you have been hiding your heart,”  _ the thunder rumbles. Sounding very much like an actual voice. 

“Oh no,” Ajax almost  _ whimpers.  _

The storm reaches out, clouds of purple looking awfully like grasping hungry fingers. 

“Is that...a Heartless?” Naminé stares. It looks so much like Demyx, when he puts aside the illusion of humanity he insists on clinging to. Looks so much like him, yet  _ not.  _ A thunderstorm, like she’s said, not a tidal wave composed of a thousand different Heartless. 

“I won’t let him get you! Run!” Ajax shoves her off into the Dark. Turning to face whatever comes for him. 

“No!”

Naminé falls.

 

* * *

Her body comes to life with a gasp. Shuddering, every inch of her. She rolls over, to dry heave. Her gut rebels against her. 

You’re not supposed to use the Power of Waking for something like this. Yet she did it anyway. 

Did it and doomed Ajax in the process. 

(Why are you like this?)

She pounds her fist against the earth, pushing herself back up into sitting position. 

 

Tilts her head back. The sky is pretty here, at Yen Sid’s tower. A reminder, of everything she has managed to change. To possibly save. 

The Nobody looks up at the bright, bright stars above. So very different from empty night they left behind them, in the future that will now never be. “I’ll save you. All of you.”

A shooting star flashes briefly across that same starry sky, as if witnessing her promise. Sealing it. 

“I promise, with all of my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The physical differences Vexen brings up about Nobodies aren't really important at the moment, but the ones Namine has are these: paler corpse-like coloring and slower heartrate, among others. Namine isn't correct in saying Nobodies don't bleed, but it is harder to bring their slow-moving blood to the surface compared to Somebodies.  
> -The scroll Namine gives to Ienzo is a Fire Emblems mage scroll. Different schools of magic, am I right? And speaking of different schools...  
> -I like Yen Sid, he's fine, really. It's just he and Namine come from different schools of thought. Yed Sid is used to keeping secrets, so people will not use the information improperly. Namine comes from a world that fell due to the lack of knowledge on hand to counter that fall, so of course she's in favor of sharing all she can.  
> To simplify it: Xehanort's existence and what he's doing with his own knowledge proves Yen Sid right. But to properly fight him, Namine's school of thought is pretty important. Why else do you think DDD happened?  
> -I could write so much meta on knowledge and information and the roles they play in Kingdom Hearts...but I won't. :( Not enough words here. If you want that meta, I'll try to put it in the comments. Edit: it's in the comments now!
> 
> Next up: The Keyblade War begins with False Dawn.


	32. False Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was always going to end this way. 
> 
> (You can't escape Fate, little weaver.)  
> (No one can.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hefty portion of the lines and scenes in this chapter come directly from KH3 itself. So if something looks familiar, it probably is.

Skuld waits outside of the tower. For their tasks to be completed. While she herself is purposeless. 

Skuld’s...not sure what she’s supposed to be doing anymore. 

She keeps on failing, no matter what she does. 

Caught between the past that was and the future that may be. How can she be sure that what she does will prevent the awfulness of a World with no stars?

 

( _Hello. Are you ready? The end is almost here.)_

She stiffens. Head jerking around. What? Who’s talking?

Nobody here. No one but her. 

( _Heh. I can’t wait._ )

“Who are you?”

Skuld draws her Keyblade. 

_(That won’t help.)_

_(It was always going to end this way._ )

“What do you mean? Explain!” She demands of the voice, of the silent trees. 

Nothing. The voice says no more. Skuld narrows her eyes, under her blindfold. Allows her Keyblade to vanish. 

Only to be distracted by something new. 

Sora. He’s out. Of whatever meeting she had missed. 

 

Sora’s heart is far quieter now. Missing one of the hearts he’s carried along inside of him for so long. Still complete, but still somehow less. 

Is that what they were doing, in that tower? Skuld spreads her focus, paying attention to the various individuals exiting the tower. One in particular catches her attention.  

A bright, bright heart. A heart that seems so very familiar to her, yet at the same time is so very different. Without Sora’s heart drowning that song out, it’s so much more clearer. 

How does she know it?

Well, yes, it was in Sora. But there’s more to this than that. That tune, that song, it’s _familiar_ though it appears to be missing something. A very Light heart.  

As she puzzles over this mystery, that heart full of Light moves away from her.  
To join another stranger. One she knows not at all. There are many strangers here. Knowing Sora, she has little doubt that he won’t fail to introduce each and every single one of them to her. Once the battle is over. 

He’s already done introductions for three of them, when he first got here. Riku, the Princess of Heart Kairi, and the king of both Goofy and Donald, Mickey. The rest...have already scattered to the winds. Having their private discussions, their final good-byes, before the war finally begins. 

Naminé is busy with some project of hers. Something involving the heart, Skuld is sure. Which leaves her...alone. 

Waiting. Until Sora finds her once more. 

 

By then, she has an answer. For whether to fight in this battle or not. She reaches, placing a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t shrug it off, so she leaves it there. 

(“Luxu always served as my eyes before. Now that you’ve killed him...you’ll make a decent replacement.”)

“Sora,” she can feel his shoulder tense up under her hand, as he turns his head towards her. “I don’t think I should go.”

“Why not?” As straight-forward as always. 

Her fingers tangle themselves in her skirt, as she lowers her hand. “I’m...worried.” About a lot of things, is what she doesn’t say. About the memories she can’t place, about the voice in her head, about everything.

Yet Sora still tries to answer her despite what she refuses to say. 

“Don’t worry, Skuld. We’ll win!” Full of a sunny reassurance and faith she can’t hope to match. She’s lived through too many wars for that.

Yes, they _might_ win. But what will be the shape of their victory, if they do? 

“So, will you still come?”

Skuld nods once. She can’t say no to him. Besides, they’ll need all the help they get.

A Keyblade War...

( _Are you ready?)_

 

* * *

 

Rest does not come easy. And the next morning, judging by the slow beat of Naminé’s unusual heart and the yawns coming from her every few seconds...

“Naminé, did you sleep at all?”

The woman makes a movement. A shifting of cloth announces it. “No. I couldn’t bear to. Ajax and Vanitas...”

“You can’t save them if you have no energy,” Skuld points out. 

Naminé laughs. It’s dry and not really a laugh at all. “I’ve stayed up for much longer than this. Ask Van, he would know.”

Skuld frowns. She knows that, but...

Whatever. She can’t fix this. Not at this point. 

“Hey, Skuld, over here! You can come on our Gummiship again!” Sora calls out. 

Skuld inclines her chin in the direction of Naminé’s heart. “See you there.”

“See you there,” Naminé agrees. “Be safe.”

(“Be safe.”)

Skuld shivers. But ignores it, hitching up her shoulders as she walks over to Sora, Donald, and Goofy. Waiting for her. 

“Nice’ta see yah again, Skuld,” Goofy greets her.

“Hiya,” Donald agrees, tapping his foot against the ground impatiently. 

She smiles at direction of Sora’s humming Light. “Ready to go?”

 

The Gummiship trip...is a mess, to say the least. Skuld finds herself thrown into the walls multiple times, as Sora executes crazier and crazier stunts to get through whatever guards the Keyblade Graveyard in the Space In Between.

Eventually, they do get there. There and the dust...

Skuld breathes. She can’t see any of it. Not anymore. Yet the feel is the place is exactly how she remembers. Awful and dry and _dead._

(Ephemer died here. After escaping the war...he still died here anyway.)

 

As everyone runs ahead, to the fight awaiting them, Skuld lingers. She reaches out to run her fingers along the Keyblades stuck in the earth. How many did she know? How many did she leave behind to this awful fate, in joining the Dandelions?

(Why couldn’t _everyone_ become a Dandelion?)

(Why this war?)

She’ll never know the answers to those questions. She doesn’t know it’s worse or better that way. 

Yet...

She’s not alone. Naminé, for some reason, has chosen to walk beside her. To stay behind as well. 

“There are so many...” the woman says quietly. Her heart is quiet, soothing. Always, always mournful. 

Grief is a bitter note, one both she and Naminé seem unable to move past. 

“I wish...” Skuld doesn’t finish her words, leaving them hanging. Empty. Swallowed up by the dust of the ages. 

“I’m sorry.”  But before Skuld say anything in response to that apology seemingly directed at her, Naminé continues, “I’m sorry that you all died here, long before your time. We can’t make it right. But we can remember.”

“Yes. Remember...” Skuld tilts her head up towards the sky she can no longer see. “Remember what we can. I’m sorry.”

(I’m sorry I don’t remember more. That I don’t know your names.)

“They’re waiting for us,” Naminé says gently. “The battlelines will be drawn. Are you ready?”

Skuld swallows. Nods. “As ready as I will ever be.”

“Alright. Let’s go, then.”

 

* * *

 

 

They catch up to the rest, just in time to hear Sora say, “Someone’s coming.”

And someone does. 

Their step is slow, but their heart is strong. Dark and loud. 

An old man speaks. “Legend has it that darkness once covered the world.”

And Skuld knows, without anyone else needing to say anything, that this is _Xehanort._

“We know so little about the Keyblade War- only that it was just the beginning. If ruin brings about creation, what, then, would another Keyblade War bring?”

Skuld only just manages to keep breathing. Just. 

Does. Does this man, this _Xehanort_ even understand what a Keyblade War means? Know exactly who died here, on these lands?

(He’s fighting _children_.)

(If he knows, I don’t think he cares.)

“When the darkness falls, will we be found worthy of the precious light the legend speaks of?”

Deep inside of Skuld, something _stirs._ Her hands turn into fists. _Worthy. Worthy._ Is that what this is to him? A test of _worthiness_?

She bites her lip to prevent herself from saying anything. If no one else is going to, then she won’t. Not for the moment. 

 

Another person comes out of nowhere. Skuld jerks, at the sudden bombardment of incredibly loud storm static. A Heartless, then. Much like Demyx. And here she thought that Demyx was unique. 

“Or will all of creation be instead returned to the shadows? Today we create the legend and see.”

At that, Skuld feels a grimace form on her face. _Recreate_. No. No. How dare-! 

Naminé puts an arm out in front of her, as she makes to move forward. “Not yet,” she whispers, nowhere loud enough for anyone else to hear. Only for her. 

Well. Naminé is the planner here....Skuld waits. Waits to see what other nonsense will erupt from Xehanort and his cohorts. 

 

Another individual, full of Nobody echoes, comes forth. “But first...your light shines far too brightly. It must be extinguished for the truth to be seen.”

At that, Skuld can’t help but openly laugh at that. A quiet laugh, but still a laugh loud enough for the others to hear. Their light, too bright? That’s a nice way of saying ‘I don’t like being outnumbered so I’m going to cut you apart.’ 

“Shhh!” one of the people on her ‘side’ hisses at her. Riku, she thinks his name is. The one Ajax doesn’t like, if she remembers their casual chats well enough.  

Is the other side staring at her? Joke’s on them, she can’t see any attempted stares of submission. 

Two more people. One of them feels much like the old man, the other...

Naminé is the one to move forward this time, her heart crying out frantically alongside her voice. Breaking her own rule in the process. But Skuld can’t blame her. Not with who stands before them now. “Vanitas!”

 

Vanitas...may be seeming to be physically ignoring her, going on with the spiel that others have started. 

“Only when your hopes have been broken by battle upon battle can the key be claimed to Kingdom Hearts.”

But his heart tells a very different story. It flares and pulses wildly. Like a star about to explode under its inward pressure. Yet he doesn’t move, his heart doesn’t even try to reach out to his sister. Trapped in place by the Wills of the surrounding Xehanort-allied individuals. Ones that all feel very alike. The same, in different ways. 

Skuld feels her teeth grinding. She and Vanitas...well, they aren’t friends. Their first meeting...

(“You’re not my friend! You’re just the _fucking thing_ that crawled out of his _corpse_!!!”)

She had been cruel. Cruel in a way Skuld’s afraid she’ll never be able to take back. Then or now. He’s...he’s...this Xehanort has committed the worst of crimes. 

Because even if they’re not friends, she knows him well enough to know that Vanitas considers being caged, _caged_ like this, to be his worst nightmare. 

Naminé weeps. Quietly, silently, but Skuld knows the trembles of her heart well enough to know what emotion lies there. 

 

The next Dark individual speaks, while Skuld focuses her attention on Naminé’s sorrowful heart. 

“And break you is what we shall do. It has been etched.”

Five people. Five people standing before their line, surrounded by the graves of the unburied dead. 

Around them, Darkness rises. Swells. From right next to her, Naminé inhanes, about to utter a spell. 

But Vanitas acts first, heart flaring wildly. 

 

“ _Sleepga._ ”

Naminé falls instantly. To her own brother’s hand. 

Why wouldn’t she? She trusts him.

(“She’s why I learned Sleep.” 

The fire crackles. They are the only two awake, Vanitas and her. “What, why?”

“Well, Naminé won’t sleep sometimes. She’ll try to go _weeks_ without it. So it was either learn Sleep to cast on her or watch her kill herself.”

A tapping, of armored fingers. 

“And I’m tired of watching people die.”

“But isn’t that weakness, being so easily affected by Sleep?”

Vanitas’ half-heart thrums. “She’ll guard against anyone else’s. It’s only mine her heart lets through. I think some part of her _knows_ that it’s only to help her.”

A laugh. “Trust. How about that?”)

“Naminé!” Skuld cries out, only managing to catch her in time, before she hits the rocky ground. 

The five disappear into the Dark. 

Darkness. So much Darkness. Tainting the air, the earth, everything around them. Almost like someone has torn a hole directly into the Realm of Darkness.  

“Look at how many there are!” Sora cries out.

Everyone else makes similar sounds of distress at whatever sight comes for them. 

“Okay, gang. Get ready!” A humming flash of a Keyblade summoned. 

More hums, more weapons coming from the void. What lies in the Darkness...attacks. Heartless, Nobodies, other strange creatures she’s never encountered before. All at once. It’s all she can do, to stand, in the sound. To defend the sleeping Naminé. 

 

Skuld is no fool. She knows _exactly_ what this is. A testing of their strength, but truly, a _whittling_ of their strength. Tiring them out to make them easy prey for tougher fighters later on. 

Say what you like about this Xehanort, but he is clever. In certain respects. Not clever enough to realize that a Keyblade War is not something to meddle with, but clever in the ways of fighting otherwise. 

 

For a split second...! She _swears_ she hears the familiar buzz of eternal ocean waves. _Demyx?_ But no. Nothing. Just the white buzz of so many Heartless and Nobodies echoing it. 

Skuld screams, but the sounds of fighting drowns it out. Almost unbearable. Stretches out with her Soul, weaving it into strands of a protective web. Around her and Naminé. 

Naminé, sound asleep. No matter how loud it gets, or how much Skuld shakes her. A _cursed_ sleep. 

It _stings_ , over and over again, as monsters of all kinds run into her web. Killing themselves on the Thunder and Doom of her Soul made manifest. 

But too many hits can cause the strands to break. And with each strand she has to weave anew, Skuld can feel herself weakening. Tiring. 

 

Until at last, she catches the swell of Sora’s heart, once more singing far above the rest. Calling on _something_ , something full of Light, Fun, to drive back the eternal swarm. Until they are all free of the fight once more, panting for breath. 

 

“Is everybody okay?” The King asks. “Is Naminé awake?”

Skuld shakes her head. “Nowhere close. Vanitas himself might need to remove the spell.”

“Gosh. I’ll try a spell or too,” the King swears, coming closer to examine the sleeper. “Sora, can you take lead?”

“C’mon, let’s go.” Sora takes the lead. As is the norm for him. Used to leading the fight, easy for even her to tell that much. 

Skuld hesitates, lingering next to Naminé and the King attempting to rouse her. Should she-?

What happens next decides for her. 

 

“Terra!” That voice-! Skuld freezes in place. She knows that voice! The Light heart moves up ahead. 

“Ven!” The woman next to the boy cries out as well, chasing after that Light. That name-!

Having heard Vanitas’ heart once more, being able to compare it...she knows, all of a sudden, who that too Light of a heart belongs to. The other half Vanitas has always been missing, from their very first meeting. 

 _Ventus._ This is _Ventus._ The other half of him. Realized almost too late. 

Running towards a stranger, standing in the middle of the killing field. 

 

That man....is not who they think he is. He _stinks_ of Darkness, screams of it. 

And he’s going to hurt Ven. 

Her body moves, before her head has a chance to catch up. Racing towards the confrontation, fingers fumbling at her star-shaped keychain. 

Starlight will not be enough to face the tremendous Darkness striking out at one of her few remaining friends. 

No. She’ll need something stronger to hold him back.

Something... _ancient._

The keychain drops to the rocky earth. Skuld feels the shape of her Keyblade change under her fingers as she leaps forward the last yard. Returning to its true form. 

Catching the man’s Keyblade with her own just in time. 

 

“No...how is this possible?!” The man yells. 

Skuld doesn’t need eyes to know what the Keyblade she now holds against this enemy’s own weapon looks like.

She knows only all too well.

Black, laced with silver-white lines. Hilt shaped much like a goat’s head. A blue eye on its keychain...and a blue eye close to its edge. Forever staring into her, though she cannot see it. 

Oh, she knows.

The Keyblade of the Watcher, of Luxu himself. 

 _No Name._  

 

Twin gasps from by her side. “That Keyblade...you have Xehanort’s Keyblade!” Aqua finally finds the words to say it. Her heart sings of shock and horror. 

Underneath her blindfold, Skuld closes her eyes. Firms up her stance. Presses up against the enemy’s blade even more. 

“Run, Ven,” she says, barely above a whisper. 

“What?” Skuld can almost picture his blue eyes wide in his face, looking at her, blond hair looking as windbrushed as always. Confused. _Shocked._

(That’s alright.)

(As long as he survives this.)

“Ven, you have to run! Both of you!” Skuld yells, the sound of Keyblades grinding against her each other loud in her ears. Her grip...it’s slipping. Magic can do a lot, but it can’t change the fact that there is a man several times her size bringing his full strength down on her. 

She can’t match that. Not forever. 

(But I won’t let the Dark take the people I love!)

“How do you have that Keyblade?!”

Skuld remains silent, only firming up her stance. Listening. 

 

There’s a sound. 

The clunking of metal. That sound, she knows very well...yet there is no heart. 

What? Armor...with no one inside of it? What is going on? 

While she’s distracted (idiot, don’t get distracted in battle like this!), her opponent swings at her again, this time casting Darkness with his Keyblade. 

Knocks her back into the ground. Something _snaps._ Her arm! No Name falls with a clatter to the ground. 

“Foolish imposter. There is no way you can stay against me!”

The Darkness swells. _Something_ tears through. Lots of _somethings._ It’s like the world has exploded. 

Skuld screams.  And something, deep inside of her, _answers._

 

(I have to save them!)

( _Oh, really? All by yourself?)_

(Who else will?)

( _Who else, indeed. You want power, to stop this?)_

(I have to.)

_(How...prideful...of you. I accept.)_

Light boiling her from the inside out. A beast, rising from the prison of her heart. 

She chokes, spitting out feathers. Her body shakes. Her ribs expand, as do the rest of her bones. Lighter and heavier all at once. 

Doom rises on her lips, falling out of her to etch itself into her cheeks. Her face. Her neck. 

Her arms split. Twice, thrice, many times. Until there are nine new limbs rising from her spine. Her shoulders. Over two scaled, clawed legs. 

 _(Remember, you_ **_chose_ ** _this.)_

**_I am thou and thou art I._ **

Golden and green feathers, a thousand slitted blue eyes. Claws and beak, bigger than any man could ever hope to be. Wings, wide enough to swallow worlds. Horns, curled  around her head. Stretching out. Angry. _Hungry_. 

Everything is so small now. Nothing, compared to _her._

A laugh that only she can hear, ringing in her ears. Daybreak Town’s bell tolling, over and over again. Keening out the death toll. 

( _Doomed from the very start.)_

Under her feet, the Keyblades of a million dead glow.

Ready to rise at her command. 

_(May your heart be your guiding key!)_

A flap of far too many wings. 

Superbia rises.


	33. THE GREATEST SIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interludue, set in the future that may be...or never was? Who can tell?
> 
> An explanation of sorts.

Now, time to back this tale up. Just a tad. 

To a time before this particular story even started, a story of how the World ended. You’ve read parts of it. Bits and pieces of what lies behind the curtain of the past, back in the chains of memory held by five very different individuals. 

Now, you haven’t got all of it. You’ll probably never get all of it, because that’s just how life works. _But_ , and I do say, _but_ , this section of the story may be helpful in clearing some of that fuzziness up.

But then, maybe not. It’s always rather difficult to tell with you readers, you gamers...wouldn’t you say? 

So, here. 

We. 

Go. 

 

* * *

 

Skuld wakes up on cold metal. Shivering. 

“You’re awake!” A stranger’s voice observes.

Sitting up, she spies a man. A tall man in a dark zipper coat. Black and hooded, unable to see his face. 

“Now that you’re awake...we can get down to business!” The man claps his hands. “Where’s your Keyblade?”

“Um.” Skuld flexes her hand. “It broke...?”

“Nope. It’s right there!”

Suddenly, in the center of the platform, there is a Keyblade. The platform that is her heart, Skuld suddenly realizes. 

He nods to her and the Keyblade, sitting out on the platform of her heart. What’s left of it. “Go on, take it! To the victor goes the spoils, after all.”

That Keyblade...it has a blue slitted eye on its edge. Watching her. 

 

Skuld knows its name like she knows her own: No Name. 

Taking it...the very thought leaves a chill running down her spine. 

“No. I don’t want it.” She shakes her head, taking a step back. Away from No Name, away from the cloaked figure standing in front of her. 

Said figure starts musing out loud. 

“Luxu always served as my eyes before. Now that you’ve killed him...you’ll make a decent replacement.”

“I’m no replacement! I’m me!” Skuld objects.

“Being you doesn’t mean you can’t become something new. Besides, you can’t reject it.” He sweeps out his arm in a wide gesture, indicating No Name. “It’s already here. Already your Keyblade.”

“Then I won’t use it,” she says firmly. Resolute in her decision, hands tight in fists by her sides. 

“You sure about that?”

“Who are you?” Skuld questions instead of answering. (She’s not sure. Not really.)

“Do you have a guess?”

That cloak... “You’re the Master of Masters.”

“Correct!” The Master of Masters almost twirls in place. “You’re quite clever, just like I remember.”

“You’re here for a reason.” Why?

“Well, if you’re Luxu’s replacem-” “No, I’m not!” “His _replacement_ , then I need to get you up to speed.” He claps his hands again. “First things first. Luxu was my watcher, from the very beginning. That Keyblade, you see there?” 

The cloaked head nods to No Name. “That’s how I saw the future, for the Book of Prophecies. Now everything went a bit off road...the Scapegoat died sooner than expected and so did the Hero...” 

His words devolve into muttering, before suddenly becoming clear again. “Luxu lived for years upon years, decades upon decades, to the X-Blade reforged and for me along with his fellow students to return. Now...that didn’t happen.”

“No, it didn’t. Your students went crazy and now everything’s falling apart.”

“Yep!” The Master agrees, suddenly chipper again. “So I’ve got a simple solution for that.”

His next words are serious. Too serious. “Go back in time and do one thing.”

 

“The X-Blade must never be forged.”

Skuld ignores the time travel bit. She’s done that before, technically, as a Dandelion. Waking far into the future can’t be too much different from waking far in the past. No, she focuses on the next bit instead. 

“But...what you’ve said, hasn’t Luxu been waiting for centuries? Waiting for you and the Foretellers? Now it’ll never happen?”

“If you prevent the forging, yep.” 

She looks up into the darkness of that unfathomable hood. “You’re an ass.”

“Whoa, that’s a mean thing to say to someone giving you a second chance.” The Master of Masters put his hands on his hips. 

“What do you mean, second chance?”

“Exactly that.” The Master of Masters waves a finger. “You do me a favor, carry me away with you, stop the X-Blade forging, I do you a favor. See?”

“And?” Skuld pushes. As a Dandelion, a Union member, she would have never pressed a Union Leader like this. Let alone the teacher of those Union Leaders. Never ever. But now, after she’s been through so much...she deserves some answers. No matter who she pushes in the meantime. 

“I’ll let you meet your friends again.”

Everything freezes. Her mouth dry, Skuld speaks again. “You will?”

“Yeah, of course.” He waves an entire hand this time. “Ephemer, Ventus, your fellow Union Leaders...you’ll meet them again. I’ll make sure of it. If you succeed in carrying out your end of the detail.”

“I’ll see them again,” she breathes. It’s...it’s everything she ever wanted. Skuld nods. Decided. “Fine. I can’t say no, anyway, can I?”

“I’m glad you’re smart enough to figure that out.” The Master claps his hands together, slightly bouncing in place. 

“Do you know...what’s coming?” Skuld asks, hesitant. There had been the entire Book of Prophecies, after all. Like he had mentioned. 

 

Instead of a straight answer, he hums. And mentions a name she does not know. 

“Now, Sora, he’s an interesting one...” The Master taps his fingers against his leg. “Such a hero. It’ll be fun seeing what’ll he resort to, to save his friends.”

Skuld’s hands tighten into fists as she almost swings herself forward at the man(?). “Are we nothing but game pieces to you?!”

“Do you really want the answer to that question?” The Master shoots back. “Really truly?”

Skuld lowers her eyes. “No,” she admits. “But only because I know what your answer would be.”

“Hey, that’s rude! Making assumptions like that!” The Master shakes his head and wags his finger at her. “You know what they say about assumptions...”  
“They make _you_ an ass?”

“Whoa. That’s...you’re actually pretty funny, did you know that? Did your friends tell you that?” She swears she catches the gleam of an eye under that hood. Staring right into her heart. “Or were you too busy trying to keep them all together? Even as they left you behind.”

Skuld gasps, a stab to her heart. The surrounding platform shakes. Just a little. 

“Now, hold on! You need to stop feeling so much, I’m not quite done yet.”

 

“...What are you doing?” she asks wearily, glancing around at the glass pieces scattered all around the place. _Actually_ looking, for once, at the mess of her heart. How the platform she stands out appears to be barely more than bare bones of a metal skeleton. 

The Master of Masters squats down, picking up a shard of bright purple glass. Turns it over in his hand. “Why, putting your heart back together, of course.”

Skuld gasps, hands instinctively flying to her chest. “What happened to it? Did I break it in the fight against Luxu?”

The cloaked man hums. “Hm. Glad to see my efforts are working already.” He clicks the shard into place, right along the frame. 

“What? Tell me, what happened?”

“I’m reconstructing you, didn’t you listen.” He spreads his arms, showing the entire frame. “Taking the glass of your heart and making it into a shape I like better.”

 

Skuld freezes. Twitches. “...That means...I’m not the same person?”

“Not anymore!” The Master chirps. “You see, if you’re going to do what I want, your heart can’t be looking like Pride’s in there. So...” 

He nods to a new shape on the ground. Pieces formed into the shape of a goat’s head, if Skuld squints just right. “I’m making it look like Lust is here instead! And if that means changing a few Memories in the process...well, you’ll be fine.”

Skuld rubs at her head. She only understands one part of that...

“...My memory is lie?”

“Weeelll.” The Master tilts a hand back and forth. “All Memories are lie, if lies are departures from reality. I’m simply making it so the Story makes more sense. A better fight between you and Luxu.”

“But you’re doing more than that.” It’s not a question. Even if he answers it like one. 

“Yeah, you’ll be the best kind of the traitor. The one that doesn’t even know it!” The Master laughs, hand slapping at his knees. “You should thank me, you know. You don’t need all of those extra memories getting in the way." 

He lowers his voice, in a parody of a whisper. "You won't remember any of this, by the way. It's better off like that!"

Skuld says nothing. Stuck there in frozen mute horror. 

“Lots of things are wrong with you. And it’s perfect!”

Skuld unlocks her jaw, just long enough to snarl, “Get. Out.”

 

“Alright, but I’ll be back. I’m the Sin of your Heart, after all~”

“I’ll stop you. We’ll all stop you.” Skuld swears, brushing out her arm violently. “Now, leave!”

“You know, once you leave this place,” he says, suddenly serious. “You won’t be able to see. Your sight, your _physical_ sight, will be gone. You lost it to Luxu. But getting it back..that’s a different story.”

The Master of Masters tilts his cloaked head. “You turn me away, you lose that chance to see again. Ever. Sure you still want to do it?”

Not seeing...forever?

Skuld already knows what she’s going to say. “I won’t let you hurt my friends. Out!”

“Alright! See you soon!” He twirls in place, vanishing in a cluster of shadows. 

 

_Just remember!_ His voice echoes, _Just who your real friends are..._

Skuld shivers. She hates this! Hates him! But what can she do? Her heart...it’s already changed. Clawing at the stained glass with her fingernails does nothing to help. And she feels so tired...

Skuld shivers again, rubbing at her arms. Why is it so cold...? Cold enough to se her breath. She breathes. 

Sits down on the platform of her heart and curls up. Closes her eyes. 

Drifts off and knows no more. 

Remembers no more. 

 

* * *

 

“Oh, she’s gone?”

The Master of Masters reforms himself, upon the brightness of Skuld’s heart platform. Hums and paces. Examining the work of art he’s still piecing together. The faces of friends, the friends she wants to see again, in their familiar circles. 

Her _dead_ friends.

Maybe, once he could raise the dead. Once. But that was before the Final World was lost, in this worldline. Now, no one will live again. No more game overs become game continues. 

But he’ll keep his word. She’ll see her friends again. She’ll do anything for them, even if it means never living again herself. 

 

Hm. The Master taps his fingers together. Paces back and forth. 

Thinking about what lies outside, in the world that Skuld interacts with day-by-day. What individuals lie outside, the individuals she’ll end up lying to. 

He counts off on his fingers, putting a finger up with each one he names.  “A Nobody, a Heartless, a Replica, an Unversed...and a Dandelion. Or a human, if you want to be _reeal_ technical. One of each kind. Hah!”

A spread-out hand. Black gloved fingers wiggle. 

The Master of Masters laughs to himself, shaking his head. 

“Like a star. One, for each point of a star. Hm. I should write that down somewhere.”

 

Humming, the Master of Masters settles down on the glass platform. Criss-crosses his legs. Pulls out a red book, a book full of musty pages, dust fluffing out the minute he settles it down in his lap. 

“Achoo!” A gloved finger rubs at an unseen nose. “Man, I never thought I would take this one out anytime soon...”

_Alternate Universes_ titles the book in question, in a neat scrawled out script. _Non-canon,_ reads in smaller lettering, a subtitle right underneath. Carefully, the Master of Masters flips through the pages. As he does so, various loose papers slip out. Scattering about the Heart Station like escaping birds. Some are old and curling up on themselves, others quite new and their ink just barely dried. 

Coating the glass in a second skin of pale paper. Words upon words upon words. 

The Master of Masters ignores them all, and pauses in his flipping. A fresh new page, ready for the pen. 

Out of nowhere, a feathered quill appears. Upon the page, he scrawls the following:

 

**_Superbia- Stage One: The Archangel_ **

 

**_All Worlds Share_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the battle, I promise! Here's some battle tunes to tide you away til then...
> 
> Vanitas Battle Theme- Keeper of Lust in Persona 5 (FamilyJules Metal cover)  
> Namine Battle Theme- Red like Roses Part II in RWBY (FamilyJules Metal cover)  
> Demyx Battle Theme- Wave of Darkness in Kingdom Hearts 0.2 (OST)  
> Ajax Battle Theme- Devil Trigger in Devil May Cry 5 ( Tsuko G Acoustic cover
> 
> Skuld- Sealed Vessel in Hollow Knight (OST)


	34. All Worlds Share

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superbia  
> Stage One: Archangel  
> Tips: Block the Keyblade Whirlwind attacks and Dodge everything else! Blizzard those wings before they put you on ice. Watch for the eyes, because they have an eye on you. And lasers. Can’t forget the lasers.  
> Defeated: -

“Aw, _frick_.” 

Honestly. 

Only Ajax would go for a substituted cuss in the face of world-ending catastrophe, instead of an actual swear, Vanitas thinks faintly from somewhere in the in-between of himself and the Unversed. Stretched thin.  

Thin enough that the new piece of Xehanort can move his body, while the rest of him screams out his pain in the monstrous Unversed. Wailing as his body turned on his own sister, yet just enough of him left to make her sleep. Not dead. 

He drifts, until everything starts rushing together. Blurring together. A flurry of light as he rises from the deep. 

 

Vanitas wakes, gasping for breath. Feels like emerging from a deep well, full of ice cold water. Enough of his fragmented heart has gathered back together for him to _actually_ be present in his body again. More than a ghost. 

He flexes his fingers and they _actually move._

Resists the urge to puke and puke until all of his feelings flood out of him again.

“...Not that I’m complaining, but why?” he speaks, and the words that come are fully his own. “Why bring me back?” Allow me to actually be myself again, is what he doesn’t say. Vanitas fights the urge to leap forward, to rip out his Master’s heart with his Keyblade. Waits instead, for an answer. 

(He hates this. So very much.)

His Master considers him with those gold eyes of his. “The situation has changed.”

No shit. The worst of the Sins, _Superbia_ ’s up there, glaring down at everyone with far too many eyes. No way his Master planned for that. 

No one plans for a sudden Sin attack. Especially in a time and place that’s never had one before. And they had been so careful...

What had gone wrong?

Where had Pride been hiding?

“You have information on what... _that_ is.”

“Naminé  has more,” Vanitas counters. His shoulders tremble, ever so slightly, at the thought of more correction at such an insolent comment. But he’ll do it. For Naminé . For his sister. 

(I promised I would live. For her.)

(In a way that my own brother refused to do for me.)

“We’ll need all the power we can get, for this,” he adds. He lowers his head even more, almost bowing. Anything, to get his Master to take mercy on his sister. On him. 

“And you, replica...?”

Vanitas can hear Ajax quickly agreeing with him, affirming that Naminé  knows the most about this kind of situation. Of course he would. He loves Naminé  too. Loves her and knows just as well as he does that they need every bit of power they can manage, to fight Superbia. 

“Then wake your ‘sleeping beauty’ we shall. Come.” 

Master Xehanort turns and Vanitas follows him close behind. Close, but not too close. It’s not safe to be so close. 

 

Briefly, Vanitas’s eyes flicker upward. Catch a faint shimmer. Ajax’s got the illusion up. Hiding them. Good. Time to talk, to plan. Not a lot, but enough. 

Superbia seems distracted, floating up Keyblades from the battlefield. Thankfully. A full on attack while no one knows what to do...spells disaster. 

One step at a time. First, wake Naminé . Then...then decide what to do next. 

The Lights are clustered near the edge of the killing grounds now. Trying to avoid Superbia’s sight, like that will do them any good. Again, good thing Ajax’s got an illusion up, for them all. Strong one, too. 

Naminé ’s on the ground, the mouse attempting to tend to her. The rest of Lights seem to trying to help as well, between watching the Sin warily. Not they’re really being of any use. 

 

There’s no Skuld. He saw her earlier, she would be here. She wouldn’t leave Naminé  to the mouse, not when she had magic of her own to spare. 

Where is she?

Unless...

His eyes go back to look at Superbia in the distance.

No. It couldn’t be. But it had to be.

“Skuld,” he mutters under his breath, tightening his fingers into a fist. “What the hell did you do? What happened to you?”

(I thought it was Lust...)

(I thought we were safe...)

(Idiot.)

Vanitas shakes off his doubts, marching forward. The Lights all ready their weapons in response to his sudden intrusion. He ignores them all, making a beeline towards Naminé . Where the mouse stands over her. Trying to cast some sort of spell, one that is clearly not doing what it’s meant to do, if the still-sleeping Naminé  is any indication. 

“Back off, mouse.” Said mouse only stiffens up in response, lifting his Keyblade in a defensive gesture.

“No, I won’t let you hurt her again!”

Vanitas huffs, shaking his head. “I’m not going to hurt her. We need her.”

He spreads his hands. “Look, give me one second and I’ll back off. Not like anything you’re trying is working, right?”

His Royal Majesty glares at him, but does move over. Barely, just an inch. Whatever. As long as the mouse king doesn’t stab him in the back, it’ll be fine. 

He kneels, placing his hand on her cheek. Moves his fingers just enough to grip at the side of her head, carefully lifting her head up from the rocky soil. 

“Esuna.”

The healing magic spurts weakly from his fingers in a flurry of green sparks. Still somehow enough. 

 

Naminé ’s eyes flutter. She groans. “Van...?”

“You need to wake up now, little sister,” Vanitas informs her, taking care to speak quietly enough that no one can hear him. 

“What’s...gone wrong?”

“Superbia.”

At that, Naminé ’s eyes open right away. She shoots up, and quickly uses her single hand to boost herself onto her feet. 

“What? I thought...Pride shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah. Something went _really_ wrong.” Vanitas jerks his head to the crowd behind them. “And I said _you_ would be the one to explain it all.”

“You’re awful. The worst.”

Vanitas shrugs. “Heart of Darkness, remember?” Turns, to walk towards the group of people once more. To suss out exactly who’s there, and who he’s probably going to end  up killing once this mess is over. 

(If they can _fix_ it...) 

“That’s just an excuse!” Naminé  hollars at his retreating backside. Instantly drawing everyone’s attention, of course. Most of the Lights...they’re shocked, really. Shocked that one of the big bad Darks woke up his victim. 

Ajax grins, coming up to offer Naminé  a hand. Vanitas, for his part, does a visual sweep of the two groups. Searching for not only fighting between the two, but also checking for a certain someone...

 

There’s someone in a black Organization coat talking to a much smaller individual, also in a coat. Near the back. There’s group of Heartless, floating next to them. One big and familiar, the other a group of Tuned Emblems of many different colors. 

Vanitas ignores them and focuses on the pair. On the taller one. 

That coat...looks different than what Vanitas is used to. Different patterning, less pointed shoulder. A mixture of a familiar design and something else entirely. 

But Vanitas would know that blond hair anyway. The hand gestures. As if the Heartless weren’t a big enough clue. 

Demyx. 

And that smell of flowers...so familiar. It’s her. It’s _Strelitzia._

“Huh, I guess I wasn’t imagining things after all. Why are you here?” he strides up to the conversing pair. Probably interrupting whatever conversation they had just been having. 

Demyx flicks his fingers towards Strelitzia. “C’mon, help me convince she needs to leave!”

“I can help! I _did_ help!” the girl argues back, her head still hidden in her hood. 

Vanitas looks at her, catching a brief glimpse of hopeful green eyes. He hates this. Strelitzia died long before war hit the World, broke it beyond repair. She may have watched, a little, from the Final World, but had never lived it.  She didn’t know what was coming. None of these dumb kids did.

Yet...

He holds back a sigh. They don’t have a choice. There is nowhere safe to run. To hide. “Demyx, there’s nowhere for her to go.”

Demyx deflates, under the weight of the realization that Vanitas won’t be supporting him on this. 

“...Oh. I guess.” He turns on Strelitzia once more. “Be _really_ careful! We don’t want anyone else to know who’s exactly here. Especially _you-know-who_.”

Strelitzia nods frantically. “Okay! I promise!”

Vanitas tilts his head towards Demyx, lightly jerking it in Strelitzia’s direction.Flicks his fingers. _Get her out of here, if it goes downhill. If we have to destroy this world and everyone on it._ The Heartless understands right away, nodding in agreement back. That kind of communication tends to happen when you’ve spent enough time with someone. Six years, to be exact. In this case. 

Vanitas feels the weight of his Master’s gaze. The heart fragment inside of his own guarantees it. Now, to draw attention away from Strelitzia. He takes a side-step. Demyx, thankfully, follows him, yellow eyes sharpening. 

Then, Vanitas speaks up. Loud enough for everyone in the area to hear. 

 

“Your dramatic entrance was actually _late._ So sorry.”

Demyx droops. Melts a bit at the base of his legs. Like one of those Mushroom Heartless. For lack of a better description for the movement. “Aw man.”

“...Slow...” The large Heartless next to Demyx grunts. The Heartless that once was Ansem the Xehanort’s Heartless minion, if Vanitas recalls correctly. Looking differently, from before. Well, still has the head tendrils and general shape shape. But the bindings on it, they’re gone. Replaced with blue wave-like patterning. An ocean, on Dark flesh. It’s speaking, too, instead of being silent. And that voice. Why is that voice familiar...?

Demyx whirls on him, pointing a finger in that face. “Hey, like you’re one to talk! Who was it that got us lost in the Enchanted Domain again?”

“...You...”

“ _Hey_!”

“Is really that hard to navigate in the Realm of Darkness?” the King asks. “I mean, can’t you just go up to the Realm of Light, and figure it out from there?”

“Just go up to the Realm of Light, he says. That’s not how it works at all!” Demyx waves his arms. “Well, maybe it works like that for you guys. But a Heartless? We’re differ-” Pauses, as he cocks his head at the mouse. Yellow eyes go unfocused, in a way that Vanitas knows too well. Thinking. Thinking _hard._ Too hard, for the disaster they’re currently in the middle of. 

Now, to get Demyx back to the fight before he starts navel-gazing too hard, trying to figure out if he ate the future King Mickey or not.

 

Easiest way? Vanitas punches the Heartless in the shoulder. His anti-Heartless armor provides enough oomph that Demyx yelps and rubs at said shoulder, whimpering. 

His face... _melts_ slightly. Oozes Darkness. Causing everyone else in the vicinity to wince, grabbing for their various weapons. Both Ventus and Aqua look a little green, actually... 

As funny as that is, the mess needs to end before Demyx gets himself stabbed by a Keyblade. Or multiple Keyblades. 

“Demyx.” Vanitas gestures to his own face. “Face.”

“Oh _right_.” Demyx puts his gloved hands up to his face, pressing at his cheeks. Pushing it all back into the correct shape. 

“Ugh. What _happened_ to you, Demyx?” Looking over, it’s the redhead, Lea, that’s speaking. Grimacing. 

“Hey, I’d like to see _you_ looking this good as a Heartless,” Demyx shoots back. 

“You’re a _Heartless?_ ”

Oh man. Keyblades out again. All pointing at Demyx. 

“Don’t touch him.” Ajax steps up, before Vanitas has a chance to. 

“He’s a friend.” Newly gold eyes sweep over the group of Lights. “A better friend than some of you have been. He won’t leave us alone to this battle.”

Vanitas whistles. Ouch. What a thing to say, to those friendship-crazy Lights. That’ll definitely get them to back down. Ajax has always been good at hitting where it hurts. Sure enough, the Lights let their Keyblades away. Shuffle their feet. Still shooting glances at Demyx, but doing nothing that could be considered a threat. 

But enough about the Lights. 

What about the other Darknesses?

 

When Vanitas glances back at his ‘fellow’ Norts, the closest ones in the vicinity, there’s a few things he notes. First, Ansem Seeker of Darkness looks a bit...pissy. About Demyx taking the claim on his minion, Vanitas supposes. Boohoo, how sad. Vanitas feels so _bad_ for him.. Xehanort Jr is also looking pissy. Most of the Norts are looking pissy, except for the Xemnas Nobody one that looks as straight-faced as ever, and his Master. Master, who’s just _watching_ him. 

(Bastards.) 

(He _hates_ them. So much.)

“Now. Explain. What is that creature?” Ansem the Heartless speaks up first, gesturing to Superbia in the distance. 

“That is...the remains of one of the Lost Masters,” Naminé  explains. 

“The Lost Masters?” Sora asks, scratching at his head. “Who’s that?”

All of the main portions of his Master, the ones that hold the greatest pieces of his heart, narrow their eyes upon hearing that. Knowing the secrets they do, Vanitas has no doubt that the name is familiar to them. 

Braig laughs. A nervous one, as the one-eyed man scratches at his neck. “Now, I don’t really know what you’re talking about...but if they’re ‘Lost’ shouldn’t they still be ‘Lost’? Not attacking us?”

“They came back _wrong_ in our future,” Vanitas adds. “Tried to kill us all.”

“Great! But that doesn’t explain how Skuld turned into one.” Lea questions, running a hand through his hair, eyes looking up at the towering Sin. 

“Um.” Vanitas taps at his armored leg. They tell these people the truth, about the Sins inside of them...Vanitas pretty much _knows_ how they’ll react. The Master...will just want to use them, obsessed with the Keyblade War as he is. The Lights...they’ll probably vote for locking the five away, so to never risk their monsters getting free.

And if the Lights do that...well, Vanitas doesn’t really _want_ to hurt anyone. But he won’t be trapped. Never again. 

(He’ll break his chains and _Xehanort_ will know his Wrath when he’s free.)

“Does it matter?” Sora surprisingly is the one who speaks up. “We need to know how to stop her more!”

“Yeah, that’s right. Stopping her is more important at this point,” Vanitas agrees. Hm, Sora seems awfully eager to get off this topic. 

(Wonder what he’s hiding...)

“Alright. To stop her...” Naminé  hums. “What is everyone’s capabilities?”

While they’re sorting that out, Vanitas thinks. About the Sins. 

 

Thinking through his encounters with the Sins... “They’re Unversed.”

“Hm?” Naminé  ducks her chin slightly, blue eyes trying to meet his own covered-up eyes. Her way of inviting him to say more.

“The Sins, they’re Unversed of the Lost Masters,” Vanitas elaborates. He stretches out his arms. “Every bad thought, icky feeling...”

Brings his hands close together. Just an inch apart. “Squished together into monsters that want to destroy us all.”

“If that’s the case...” Ajax says, “Where’s the rest of them? The brain?”

Vanitas shrugs. “I dunno. Not a perfect comparison, I guess.”

Demyx waves a hand. “Some things don’t need a brain, remember?”

“...I’m not going to even touch that one. Too easy.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

 

“Enough.” His Master only says the one word, but it’s enough. Vanitas freezes at the familiar tone, hair going up on the back of his neck. Demyx shoots a yellow-eyed glare in the old man’s direction, but shuts up too. 

Naminé ’s eyes flicker over to the old man’s direction and back again. “Shall we talk strategy?”

“Is that not the intent of us congregating together?” Xemnas, Xehanort’s Nobody, inquires.

Naminé  inclines her head towards him. Not even an inch, completely frosty. “Of course. We’ll need some larger allies, to face Superbia first. The Demon Tide is available, is it not?”

“Yep! I got that!” Demyx waves his hand again. 

“How will that help? Is it to deal more damage?” Riku asks. 

Naminé  shakes her head. “No. As a distraction. Keeping Superbia busy so we can get in closer.”

“Smaller enemies are always harder to hit than bigger ones. That’s the Keyblade way, ain’t it?” Vanitas adds. 

“Ain’t isn’t a word.” Aqua. Of course. Why is she like this?

“ _Ain’t._ ”

 

“Why are we listening to these fools?” Marluxia cuts in, looking extremely _bored._ “Surely we can come up with a better strategy on our own merit.”

“They’re not fools!”

Vanitas groans quietly, running his hand down his faceplate. Of course Strelitzia would speak up to defend them. Of course she would. 

Marluxia, for his credit, knows right away his sister is the one sassing him. He narrows his eyes as he takes a step towards Strelitzia.

“You are not supposed to be here.”

Strelitzia folds her arms over her chest. In mimicry of his own pose, Vanitas realizes with bubbly amusement. Amusement that he pushes down, before it takes the form of a chittering Flame Box or two. “There’s nowhere else I can go,” she shoots back, “You made sure of that.”

Marluxia raises a hand. To do something to Strelitzia, whether to hit or to grab, Vanitas doesn’t know. But before he has a chance to move...

 

Twin snarls. The minion Heartless floats forward, right next to Demyx. Both glaring in Marluxia’s direction, Minion even raising a threatening fist. 

The nearby Emblem Heartless chitter. Some even go as far to start charging their various elemental attacks. 

Naminé ’s eyes flash. With a brief annoyance. “ _Enough._ Demyx, calm your pack. Marluxia...you remember what I said I would do, earlier? I’m _thinking of doing it now._ ” 

Marluxia pales. Really awfully too, paired with the yellow eyes and pink hair. 

Vanitas can’t help but grin at that, unseen the expression may be. Hah, serves that peacock right!

Naminé  lets a breath. “We’ll need all the people we can get, in this fight. Any other suggestions?”

“Maybe we s-

 

“ _I CAN SEE YOU.”_

Fuckfuckfuck. 

Time has just run out. 

A flock of Archravens escape his shadow, squawking and fluttering to escape what’s coming. Not that means anything, if he gets taken out here and now. 

A flick of a feather and the illusion is torn away like a cobweb under a cat’s paw. The eyespots on that golden feather all blink in unison. Glow with gathering power, ready to obliterate them all.

 

Naminé  spreads her arms. She glows, flashing with green fire. “NO!”

Her limbs lengthen, her body stretches out. Her already pale skin pales even more, becoming a pure snow white. She grows, into something many times her size. The size of one of Superbia’s smaller wings. 

When the transformation is complete, the Nobody’s human form is no more. In place stands...a _dragon._

A brilliantly white dragon, with ice blue eyes. Horned, winged, looking almost exactly like Maleficent’s own dragon form. 

“ _I use the second of my Gift, to stand against you! You will not hurt them!”_

A swoop of her wings and she shoots into the air. Breathing blue flames to drive back Superbia’s attacking limb. Ice forms on said limb and the monster shrieks, withdrawing its wing to fold it up closer to the body. 

 

Following her cue, Demyx launches up into the air as well. His entourage of Emblem Heartless follow in his wake, as does Minion Heartless. 

The Keyblade Graveyard shakes. From the surrounding canyons, a swarm, bigger than any the worlds of Light have ever seen, streams out to the sky. Blocking out the sun, the Light, with their presence. Wrapping themselves around Superbia at Demyx’s wide gestures. Almost like he’s directing a band, an orchestra. 

Demon Tide. 

 

As normally is the case in these situations, Vanitas takes charge on the ground level. 

“Come on, let’s go, let’s go! Gotta take advantage of those openings!”

Surprisingly, no one argues. They follow him into the fray. Into the storm rising on the plains.

The storm that will destroy the World if they don’t act fast enough. 

 

* * *

 

From some distance away, two individuals watch the battle play out. Catching, of course, the sudden dragon transformation occurring in the middle of it. As one does. 

“...uh, Maleficent. Do ya have any...kids?” Pete scratches at his ear.

“Of course not, fool. But that girl...somehow she wields my power like one born to it,” the evil fairy muses. “Perhaps, should she survive this, we will have a... _talk_.”

 

* * *

 

Everyone on the ground is separated almost right away. 

Keyblades floating everywhere. Randomly striking at people as they pass. Attempting to get close to the monster at the center of it all.

They’re easy enough to parry and block, even if he’s using Soul Eater instead of an actual Keyblade. But there are so many...

Enough to knock Riku over. To start swarming him. 

Just when Riku’s sure he’s going to die, that the Keyblades will tear through his Dark Suit straight to his heart...they’re done. Driven back by a flash of Darkness. Familiar Darkness. 

Riku stares up at someone familiar. Familiar but not. Ansem but not. Ajax. 

 

“You alright there?” A hand offered. To help Riku back onto his feet. 

“Why help me?” Riku can’t help but ask, accepting the hand only as long as it takes to get onto his feet. Quickly letting go as soon as he’s stable enough to stand. People don’t _help_ each other in the Organization. Not unless they get something out of it. 

 

Ajax shrugs. 

“Us replicas have to stick together.”

“Why are you so _casual_ about that?” The question escapes Riku before he has a chance to stop it. Bursting like a bomb. 

“About what?” Ajax frowns. A little. Tilting his head. Even those simple small motions are enough to make him look so different from the person he replicates almost exactly, right down to the familiar yellow eyes. 

“Being a replica!” Riku hisses. He goes for a word he’s heard fellow Organization members use many times. “A _puppet_!”

There’s a hand on his shoulder. Why is there a hand on his hand? Gently squeezing.

Carefully pulling him out of the way of yet another Keyblade Whirlwind attack. Ajax raises his own Keyblade to ward them off. 

“Don’t call yourself that. You’re no puppet.”

 

Ajax’s Keyblade...it’s not _Original’s_ Keyblade. Riku’s not sure why he thought it would be. Looks similar, like how a swift looks kinda like a swallow from far away. Still different. 

Different colors, different shape...even if it does look a bit like Soul Eater. 

His own weapon. (Original’s weapon first.)

“What do you mean?” Riku persists. He shouldn’t try his luck, he knows what happens to puppets that go too far...but he _has to know_. Why is this replica so different? Confident?

“You’re not a puppet. That’s what I mean.”

“No, not that. Why do you say it like you mean it? Why do you _mean_ it?”

Ajax frowns, flinging out clusters of Dark Firaga alongside Riku’s own small blasts. Driving the faceless enemy back. 

“I do mean it. You’re a person and calling yourself a puppet only hurts you. You don’t deserve to hurt.”

_You don’t deserve to hurt._ Riku’s breath catches. “What’d you mean? You don’t know what I deserve!”

“You’re not Riku.” The words pierce him right down to the core. Riku scrabbles for words, for something that Ajax told him before. 

(“Of course you’re real. Why wouldn’t you be?”)

“You said I was, though!”

“No, I said you were _real_ ,” Ajax corrects, “That’s different.” More Keyblades falling from the sky. Riku searches for cover, useless as it is in this desert landscape. But there’s no need. Ajax raises a hand, catching the blades on his swiftly raised Dark Barrier.

“Look.” Yellow eyes meets yellow eyes. Too soft for the color that they are. “You’re Riku, but you’re not _Riku._ The Riku that’s out there now, the Riku that spent so long chasing after Sora and Kairi, the Riku that screwed up selling his heart to Ansem.”

A breath. It would be quiet, almost, if not for the Keyblades pattering against the shield above their heads. “His mistakes _are not your mistakes._ Not mine either. We are not him. His faults are not ours, no matter what everyone says.”

“You’re wrong!” Riku screams. He punches Ajax in the shoulder, kicks at his ankles. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing this, if he hurts Ajax too much, the Barrier will fall and they’ll die. Crushed under a load of nearly lifeless metal. 

But Riku can’t bring himself to care. Not with his heart burning like this. 

“I’m using Darkness, that makes me evil, right? They _hate_ Darkness. They _hate us_!” Faintly, Riku is aware of tears running down his face, as he screams and screams. Of his eyes burning just like his heart.  

“No matter what I do, I won’t be good enough. I’ve done so much bad, but _I haven’t done it_. How do I fix it? I can’t fix it!”

Ajax mutters something that sounds faintly like, “ _damn Riku’s guilt complex_ ,” before lowering his free hand gently back onto Riku’s shoulder. The Barrier glows briefly, as it’s reinforced by yet more magic. More Darkness, holding the unnatural Light back. 

Riku lets it stay there, panting for breath. No longer fighting. 

“You’re not evil. I’m not evil. And we won’t match up to Riku, no matter how hard we try.” There’s something bitter on the edge of Ajax’s words, as he continues to speak, “He’s the _Hero of Darkness_ , the person who somehow managed to lock Darkness in his own heart like no one’s done before. A Keyblade Master, barely a year after he got his Keyblade. He’s impossible to match up to.”

“Why even try?” Riku whispers, swiping at his face. The material of his Dark Suit is rough against his cheeks. Terrible for wiping up tears. 

“That’s just it. We don’t. We’re not Riku, so we don’t have to. I have my own way.” A huff of a laugh. “Night’s Path, not his struggles to dawn. And you’re not me, so you have your own path too. You just have to live through this first.”

“What if I can’t?” 

(What if I don’t want to?)

“I believe in you,” Ajax says the words like they’re nothing at all. Yet he means them. With all of his heart. Riku can feel it, in his burning, burning heart. Like Riku is more than a puppet. Like they’re actual people, the two of them.  

 Somehow...Riku doesn’t want to let him down. 

 

“Ready?” Ajax gestures at the attacking Keyblades, making a motion as if he’s about to lower the shield. Which is fine. Riku’s strong. He’s ready. He won’t fail Ajax. 

Riku nods. “Ready.”

The Barrier drops, in a flurry of Dark sparks. They both lift their weapons once more and drive the Whirlwinds back. Back towards the monster that spawned them. 

Superbia screeches. 

Riku finds a smile stretching his cheeks, on his face. There are others now, in the storm. More visible now that everyone’s managed to drive back the Whirlwinds separating them. But they don’t matter. Not in the light of what he and Ajax talked about. 

Live through this first. Find his own path.

Well, Riku’s not sure if he quite believes Ajax. Not yet. 

But he’ll try. 

Light, he’ll try. 

(He _believes_ in me.)

 

* * *

 

Lea was not expecting this to be the Keyblade War. But then, he’s pretty sure no one (even Xehanort) was expecting this either. Not that’s really much of a comfort, but having this happen has to be better than whatever Xehanort had cooked up. 

It has to be. 

 

He shields his eyes, looking directly at the big scary monster. At Superbia, far above everyone’s heads. It’s given up on the Keyblades now and gone straight to physical attacks. Wings coming down, to squish people. Keeping people away from its body. 

Attacking the main body? Not like this. 

Stabbing at the eyes as the wings swing down, attempting to catch everyone in the area with lasers? Much more possible. And easier.  

Kairi and he make a great team. 

(Like he and X-)

Well, they work pretty well together. 

“Hey, do you see that?” Kairi points over to near a cluster of fallen Keyblades. 

Lea squints. Yep, there’s something there all right. 

A symbol.Gold and glowing. A heart, with wings. Huh. 

“Wonder what th-”

A flash of light.

 

_The Princess._

_Has somewhere else._

_To be._

 

A cloaked figure walks out of the symbol. Grabs Kairi’s arm. Pulls at her.

An Organization member? But who would it be?

“Leave me alone!” With a grimace, Kairi tugs her arm free of the gloved hand. Uses her Keyblade to shoot a Fire in the figure’s direction. 

The figure doesn’t even flinch. Adsorbs the magic and keeps on moving. Walking. Hand gripping Kairi’s arm once more. 

“Let her go!” Lea swings his Keyblade forward in attack. 

Only for the figure not to be there, for the hit to land. 

“No!”

 

_The Princess._

_Is not here._

_Was never here._

 

Lea blinks. Huh? “I could have sworn...”

He’s alone. 

(Wasn’t he with...?)

No. There’s no one here. There’s no one with him. Why did he think..?

Whatever. 

He needs to find everyone else. Track down Isa and his companion...

 

_The Princess._

_Is._

_Mine._

 

* * *

 

Somehow, Donald and Goofy, just the two of them, end up alone. 

Separated from their King, their friends. Just them. 

“Stupid Keyblades,” Donald grumbles, brushing off dust from his shoulders. “Stupid War.”

“You okay, Donald?” Goofy offers a hand.

Donald huffs and marches right past. “Just fine. And- what is that?”

There’s a symbol. Gold. Floating there. Looks like a heart, with wings coming off of it. 

Just waiting.

“Doesn’t that look like, whatchamacallits, an Absent Silhouette?” Goofy asks, squinting at the floating gold symbol.

A symbol shaped exactly like the one on the monster’s chest. 

Donald narrows his eyes. Rolls up his imaginary sleeves as he stomps toward. “We need to do something about it. It’s probably connected to Superbia.”

“You think?” Goofy scratches at his head. 

“Not just think, _know_.”

“No, you think it’s a good idea ta mess with it? Without Sora or anyone else here?”

“Uh...” Donald looks at the glowing marker. Looks at Goofy. Then flips his head back towards the marker. “Huh...”

“Hey, Donald! Goofy!” The slaps of shoes hitting the ground, of a familiar person running towards them. 

Donald turns in the direction of the voice. “Sora!”

The boy’s eyes fasten to the glowing symbol. He pauses, midstep. “What’s that?”

The symbol flashes. Once. Twice. 

“We don’t know. It might be dangerous, though.”

“Prob’bly is,” Goofy contributes. 

“What’s dangerous?” A new speaker. A girl, wearing pink. Walking up to Sora. 

 

“Kairi, how did you get here?!”

“I don’t know...one minute, I was by Axel, the next here. What’s going on?”

The two...are only a foot away from the glowing symbol. The possible threat. 

Donald frowns. “Hey, maybe you should ge-”

Everything turns to gold.The symbol expands and _someone_ steps out of it. 

 

_Secret Boss: Skulu (that which ought to be)_

_One Keyblade severs Fate, the other fulfils it. But which is which?_

_I will cut you loose from what you know._

_Pride writes this story._

 

A cloaked figure. A cloak like every Organization member wears. 

It steps forward and two weapons appear in its hands. One Keyblade that looks like Master Xehanort’s Keyblade, silver and black, sharp with a single eye staring from its frame. The other...the other is a Keyblade they haven’t seen in years. 

Red hilt, black blade, its edge forming the shape of a heart...

The Keyblade of Heart. 

“ _Oh no._ ”

 

_This is how the story goes._

_The Princess dies._

_To forge the X-Blade._

_Remember?_

 

Kairi freezes. Her eyes stuck on the Keyblade of Heart as it comes towards her. Not moving an inch. Helpless. A perfect victim. 

“Kairi!” Sora moves the quickest. He rushes forward, to wrap Kairi in a hug. Shielding her frozen body with his own. Back to the enemy. 

The enemy does not hesitate. Before Donald and Goofy can get there in time, running towards them as well...

The Keyblade of Heart impales them, running right through Sora’s heart into Kairi’s.

“No!” 

A shuddering gasp escapes Sora, as his body slumps forward on the Keyblade tearing into him. His hands weakly grasp at Kairi’s as her own body disappears in a flurry of stars. Going into the Keyblade, which glows briefly in response to this new power. 

 

_This is how the story goes._

_The Hero dies._

_To bring back the Princess._

_Remember?_

 

The enemy withdraws its weapon, allowing Sora’s body to flop over onto the ground. 

Abandoned. Rejected. 

Donald...Goofy...they don’t care what might happen next. They both continue to the body, at the enemy’s feet. Pulling on its limbs and checking for life. Taking potions and casting healing spells. 

All for naught. 

Sora does not breath. Does not move. Completely still. 

“Sora! Wake up, you silly goose, you can’t be sleeping now!”

“Sora! We need you!”

Thankfully, the enemy does not attack them. It simply lowers its cloaked head, examining their grief. Their sorrow. It turns on its heel and vanishes back into a gold sigil. A sigil that floats up into the sky, landing on and vanishing into Superbia’s own mark.

Gone. 

“Sora! Please, please, wake up!”

The ground shakes, throwing the two off their feet. Darkness wells up, Sora at its core. Knocking Donald and Goofy back even further. 

 

Before the pair’s horrified eyes, something all too familiar rises to its feet. It’s not Sora. But it is. Sora, wrapped in Darkness, pitch-black with yellow eyes shining like spotlights.

“ _Anti-form_ ,” Donald breathes. He squeaks as Goofy quickly slaps a hand over his beak, pulling him down behind some nearby rocks. 

Barely managing to escape Anti-Form snapping its head in their direction, clawed hands spread out in an attack stance. 

They hold their breath. Hiding. Watching. Normally Anti-Form’s not too bad...but in these circumstances? Would be a risk to walk up to it. 

Anti-Form shakes its head, snarling and hissing. One hand rises up to its brow, the other stretches out to hold...a Keyblade. A Keyblade made entirely out of its own Darkness, shaped from the shadow racing up its legs. 

Yellow flashes red. A scream. A _howl_. 

Anti-Form, no, _Rage_ _Form_ , screams up into the air. A bell tolls, almost in response. 

Gearing up for the battle of the century. 

“What are we going to do, Donald?”

“...Uh. I don’t know?” A webbed foot taps against the ground. “We’ll figure something out. We have to!”

“Sure we will, Donald,” Goofy nods. He holds out a gloved hand. “Anything for Sora, right?”

Donald nods right back, putting his hand on top of Goofy’s. “Anything. All for one-!”

“And one for all!”

 

* * *

 

A loud scream pierces the air. Nearly everyone pauses in response to unexpected cry. Before Superbia’s wing attacks force everyone back to fighting once more. 

“Where did that come from?”

That sound...Riku frowns. He _knows_ that sound. Doesn’t he? The new Master quickly does a headcount. 

Pretty much everyone, Organization or ally, has gathered up in this section to tear up Superbia’s limbs and laser attacks with their own weapons and spells. The few exceptions are...pretty notable in their exceptionality. 

 

Naminé  is in the sky, a dragon. The Heartless ‘Demyx’ is up in the air too and...Riku squints up in his direction. Ansem’s there too? Arguing with him maybe? Guardian’s still floating about up there too, between the two more intelligent Heartless.  Demon Tide’s still going strong, though much smaller with Superbia having taken huge chunks out of it. 

Behind the arguing Heartless, the possessed Terra and Terra’s armor (Riku’s not going to even _try_ to puzzle that mess out) are soaring through the sky as well. Dodging Superbia’s attacks, their attention only on one opponent: each other. 

Riku’s eyes narrows, counting everyone out again. 

Where’s...Sora? Kairi? Goofy and Donald are missing too... There’s a lull, in the hits. Something about that scream...has stopped the monster’s attacks.

Something has, Riku feels in his heart, has _gone terribly wrong._

 

“Axel, where’s Kairi? Has anyone seen Sora?” he calls out to his fellow fighters. 

The redhead blinks. “What? Kairi’s not here?”

Riku’s heart sinks. “Of course Kairi’s not here, what happened to her!” he shouts. 

Axel shudders and jerks, looking at the Keyblade in his hands before looking back at Riku. “Kairi...oh man, oh man. Something separated us and I..how could I forget her!?”

“For one who professes to recall so much, you truly remember very little,” Xemnas drawls. From the Organization group, clustered on the other side of the clearing. 

“Hey, shut up! You’re not the boss of me!” Axel pulls at his hair. “And Kairi...I remember now! Something snatched her up, tricked me.”

“But who?” Riku asks. “Superbia?”

Ajax taps his Keyblade against the ground. Standing close enough to the rest of Xehanort’s vessels to be considered a part of them, yet just far enough to seem separate. He’s next to the armored man who was among the other Xehanorts earlier and pretty close to the other Riku

(The past Riku. The living embodiment of his past mistakes.)

Inwardly, Riku shudders before forcibly turning his attention to what Ajax’s saying. 

 “Probably. Sins can be tricky, if you’re not ready for them.”

Riku turns on him. “And you didn’t let us know this, why?!”

Ajax and the man in red armor, Vanitas, exchange glances. Well, it seems like they do. It’s hard to tell when one of the participants insists on hiding his face. 

“Well, to be honest, we thought Pride would go after us mostly. Not you,” Ajax eventually volunteers, looking back at his ‘partner.’ 

“You still should have told us,” the King says sternly. 

“Our mistake, _Your Majesty.”_ Vanitas, of course. “Still, Sora should be out there somewhere. And what about your subjects?”

“Donald and Goofy are probably with Sora,” The King volunteers, placing a hand on his chin. 

“And if I know Sora, he’s probably tearing after Kairi,” Axel says, placing a hand on his chin as well. 

Vanitas shrugs. “Sounds about right, from what I know of him.” He folds his arms over his chest and says no more. 

From across the group, Riku spies Aqua glaring at him. Next to her, Ventus is as well. 

(Reminds him of Roxas, almost.)

 

A scream. The same scream, again. This time, everyone has a chance to search for the source. Now that Superbia is no longer attacking them, apparently occupied by the source of the first scream. 

When he finds it...Riku _gapes._

It’s Sora. But not. 

Sora covered in Darkness, leaking it. A Heartless in human shape. 

Every nightmare come to life.

“Sora...?”

“Whoa, look at that kid _go_.” A whistle, from next to him. From Vanitas. “I’m almost jealous.”

Riku glares. “How are you _jealous_?”

Aqua glares too, but Vanitas ignores both of them to continue speaking. 

“Yeah. Look at him.” Vanitas gestures at the Dark creature that was once Sora. “Loss of control, maybe? But that power...pretty impressive.”

It’s difficult to believe that this man is on Naminé ’s side or Ajax’s. Every inch of him _oozes_ a fiery confidence, much like Ansem or Xemnas. Stinking of a Darkness heavier than anything Riku’s encountered before. 

Someone that Riku could believe is on Xehanort’s side. An enemy. Like pretty much all of the ‘time-travelers’ here currently, now that Naminé  is up in the air. 

 

“Hey, is it just me or does that stance look familiar?” Ajax taps Vanitas on the shoulder. The man right away looks to where the replica points. 

“Wait....it _is_ ! That little-! _That’s_ where he went!”

“Who?” Riku can’t help but ask.

There’s a sound of a smug grin, in that voice. “Me.”

_“What?”_ Multiple people on that one, Axel and the King included right alongside Riku’s cry of disbelief. 

“ _Past_ me,” Vanitas clarifies. “Sora must still be in there, if he’s helping out.”

Riku ignores on the implications of Vanitas apparently being in there with Sora (how many people does Sora have in his heart, again?) and focuses on the important part.

“If Sora’s in there...we have to help him!”

“And Kairi,” Ventus chirps, “If Sora’s like this...she must be in trouble too!”

“Yeah.” Riku glares up at Superbia. “I’m going to help my friends. Who’s with me?”

Axel gives him a sloppy salute. “Right behind you, chief.”

“With you every step of the way,” Aqua agrees. 

“Lead the way, Riku!” The King calls out.

“Right. Let’s do this.”

Riku takes a deep breath. Counts out his allies. The Lights. The Organization is not with them, as expected, just along the edges. Watching them all with identical yellow eyes.

Where’s the young Xehanort and Master Xehanort...?

That’s something for the future. Riku puts the realization aside.

Now.

They have to save Sora and Kairi. 

Then, the World. 

 

* * *

 

Goofy scratches at his ear, careful to keep his eyes on the currently Raging Sora. What do they do...?

They have to get up there somehow, but unfortunately, Donald doesn’t know any spells for Flight. Not that Goofy does either, but it’s Donald that’s the mage here.

What to do, what to do...

 

“Hey, fellas!” A small voice calls up from the pair’s feet. Looking down, a familiar dapper cricket waves a hand. 

“Jiminy!” The pair instantly cry out. 

“Why are you here, and not with Sora?” Goofy asks right away. 

“Well, I’m ashamed to say this...but I fell off!” Jiminy pats at his hat, a frown on his face. 

“It’s alright, Jiminy,” Goofy assures him, “We need some ideas on what to do next, anyway. You got any?”

“Why, gee, let me think a little.” Jiminy taps at the ground, before raising his eyes to look up at the heavens. Points. “Hey, what about Naminé ? That dragon? Surely she’ll be able to get us closer to Sora!”

“You’re right, Jiminy,” Donald agrees. “We have to try!” The three exchange stern glances, nodding in unison. Gearing for to do what might be impossible: save Sora from himself. 

“Hey, _hey!_ Naminé !” Goofy calls out, waving at the white dragon far above. A dragon in the process of ripping and tearing at one of Superbia’s shoulders. 

Donald adds his voice to his. “Naminé !” For good measure, he shoots off a decent sized Firaga as a signal flare. 

Thankfully, that manages to catch the woman-turned-dragon’s attention. Spreading her wings out even further, the white dragon makes a wide turn. Becoming bigger and bigger as she lowers herself through the air.

Closer and closer to Donald and Goofy. The two frantically wave their arms at her. 

“We need a pick-up!”

“Pronto!”

“To get us to Sora!” Jiminy adds, little his voice may be. 

A wide blue eye blinks. She extends a limb and growls, tossing her head back. The three take the invitation as intended, clamoring up her leg onto her back. Settling right between her wings. 

A flap takes her, along with her passengers up into the sky. Another flap takes them all higher, towards where Superbia resides. 

“Wowie! Here we go!”

“Keep the Ethers coming, Goofy.” Donald charges up his staff and raises it. “Comet!”

Fiery rocks fall from the sky, falling on the monster’s body. They keep coming, with each renewal of Donald’s spell. Rage Form whirls and dances through the air, cutting away at Superbia. Supported by Naminé ’s Ice Breath and Donald’s Comets. 

Supporting Sora. Like they always do. In the end. 

 

Multiple bells toll. The closed eyes on Superbia’s ‘face’ open. They’re not...green-blue like the rest. Instead they’re...brown...

Underneath the flurry of wings, comes out two long limbs. Limbs with their ends shaped like Keyblades. Keyblades the three now know very well indeed. 

The silver-black one with the green eye and the...Keyblade that took away both Kairi and Sora. As big as Superbia’s wings. Coming down to kill the ants at its feet.

Naminé  roars. 

But then...the Keyblade arms pause. Shudder. Shake. 

 

Sora roars, raising his own Keyblade. A kitten challenging a whale. 

Superbia does not move. The familiar bell rings and rings, ever more frantically. 

Goofy’s keen eyes catch cracks in the Keyblade of Heart’s arm. Flaking away. 

“Someone’s breaking it from the inside!”

The sky fills with Light. 

The _world_ fills with Light. 

 

Across the Graveyard, an old man with bright gold eyes.... _smiles._ “I see.”

 

_This is how the story goes._

_The Villain..._

_Gets what he wants._

_On this Land shall Darkness prevail and Light expire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *points at the 'Awesome Kairi' tag* I promise.
> 
> Next chapter...  
> The Lost Princess' Theme- Leo by Xan Griffin  
> Where Sky meets Sea Theme- Shelter by Porter Robinson and Madeon (Ghibli Orchestra Edition)


	35. The Same Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t ever change, Sora.”  
> That’s an awful promise. What would we be without change?  
> ...You’re afraid, aren’t you? Of what’s coming?  
> You should be.  
> (What does it mean to mourn?)  
> The Keyword is ABYSS.

“Kairi!”

Sora’s voice. Kairi feels roughness against her face. She flips over, opening her eyes to bright blue sky. Sits up, to see everything around her, the source of roughness. Which is...

Sand. The same old beaches, the trees everywhere, that blue blue ocean, shells sprinkled everywhere...and the paopu fruit tree, right there along the edge where it should be. 

Destiny Islands.

Here? How? 

“Sora?”

He’s laying there next to her, also brushing the sand off his face. 

“Kairi, you’re okay!”

She grins. “You’re okay too!”

Sora smiles back. But the wide grin soon falls into a frown. A thoughtful one. “But what are we doing here?”

Her only answer? “I don’t know.”

Sora stands up first, offering her a hand. Kairi accepts it, allowing her to pull him up. What to do nex-

 

“Bout time you two got up.”

Kairi looks up, at the speaker. Does a double take. 

There’s a boy. A boy wearing an outfit, black with veins outlined in red, a bluish skirt with red belts X-ed on it...she knows that outfit. 

She knows who this is. 

Why is he, of all places?

“C’mon, don’t you recognize me?” The boy spreads out his arms, a fanged smirk spread wide on his face under scarlet eyes. Other than those strange features, the rest of his bared face is all too familiar. 

Kairi gasps, hand tightening around Sora’s. “You’re-”

“Vanitas!” Sora finishes, stepping forward. Tugging Kairi along with him. “You look like...me?”

“Give the man a prize, you _finally_ figured it out.” Vanitas slow claps, smile growing even more. 

“You were wearing a mask!” Sora objects.

Vanitas flaps a dismissive hand. “Details. Doesn’t matter now that you’re here. Did you really think you could do this with _only_ Light on your side?”

“Only Light...? Are you...my Darkness?”

A laugh. “Of course I’m not your Darkness! Sora, you have plenty of it _without_ me stuck in the middle of it.”

He smirks. “I’ve only given it direction _._ Something you don’t seem to have figured out yet.”

Sora bristles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, calm down. It’s not your fault you’re surrounded by a bunch of Light-crazy weaklings.” Vanitas waves his hand again, turning away from the two. He leaves footprints in the sand, as he paces back and forth. But they disappear quickly, Kairi can’t help but notice. Almost like he’s not really here at all. 

(Or not completely here, at least.)

“They’re not weak and they’re not crazy. They’re my friends!”

“People who refuse to control their Darkness.” Vanitas turns his head, just enough for Sora and Kairi to see his face once more. 

“Riku can control his Darkness,” Sora says firmly, arms folded over his chest. 

Vanitas rolls his eyes. 

“Sure he can. Sitting on your Darkness and crying about how you hurt your friends is totally how to control your Darkness. Ha! _Get real._ ”

Kairi _glares._ About ready to light Vanitas on fire with her eyes. “Don’t talk about Riku like that,” she bites out. She pulls her hand free from Sora’s, stepping towards Vanitas. 

 

Surprisingly, he backs off.  “Well, fine. But you don’t know anything about using the Dark. Just about fighting it. You _need_ me, to help you out here.” Vanitas pats his chest, over the red patterning on his black Dark Suit. 

Offers a hand. 

“Let me help you.”

Sora eyes his hand carefully. “You won’t hurt my friends.”

“Just your enemies,” Vanitas promises with sharp teeth showing in something almost like a smile.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Sora steps back, and in his place, Kairi steps forward. 

 

“You’ve changed a lot since I last saw you,” Kairi says, face screwed up thoughtfully. Still mean, but also...more than just mean. 

“Well, it’s been ten years since I last saw you. It would be weirder if I hadn’t changed,” Vanitas replies. 

“Ten years?”

“Well, yeah. At least I haven’t sleeping the _entire_ time away, like Venty-Wenty.”

“Just most of it,” Kairi says dryly, the words just falling out of her mouth.

“... _hey._ ” Despite his scowl, his tone of voice almost indicates _enjoyment_ at her sass. 

Very _different._

She’s...not sure what to do, with this kind of different. Maybe...he could be a friend. If he becomes less of a jerk, of course!

Kairi smiles at him, teeth tucked behind her lips, and tentatively, he smiles back. It’s not quite as pronounced as his other sneers and harsh grins. No, it’s something...softer. Friendly, almost. 

 

The smile falls from his face, as he looks at her. Examining her. Like there’s something wrong with her.

“What?”

“You can’t stay here for long. You need to go back to where your body is.”

She looks down at her hands. Her fading hands. Fading away just like Vanitas’ footprints in the sand. 

“But where’s my body?” Kairi cries out. 

Vanitas spreads out his arms. “How would _I_ know? It’s not here, that’s all I know.”

“But if she doesn’t have her body...where are we?” Sora asks, looking around. Blue skies, white beaches, all familiar. Destiny Islands. “This is home.”

Vanitas shakes his head at him, almost laughing. “No, it’s not. It’s your _heart_ , dumbass. Not the real deal.”

Sora’s eyes widen. “This is all happening in my head?! So it’s not real?”

Vanitas scoffs. Again. “Of course it’s happening in your head, but what makes you think that it isn’t real?”

She fades away faster now, patches of herself going in and out. “Sora!” Kairi cries out, reaching. 

Too late. 

“Kairi!”

 

* * *

 

_Another Light?_

_Impossible_

_All Seven are already here..._

_More is good._

_Come._

_Join with us._

_Be ONE._

 

* * *

 

“Kairi!” Sora reaches out, calling out her name once more. Yet she fades away, bursting into golden shards at his touch. 

Gone. 

“Kairi!”

“Sora, stop. You’re hurting my ears,” Vanitas complains. 

“But she’s _gone_!”

“Gone back to her body, she’ll be fine.” Vanitas pauses, rubbing at his chest. “Probably. How did you get here, in the first place?”

Sora rubs at his chest as well. At the place that...Keyblade stabbed right through. “Someone stabbed me with a Keyblade.”

Red eyes widen. “Really? That’s not good.” He lowers his voice, muttering his next words, “Maybe she won’t be so okay...”

 

“Don’t say that! I have to find her!”

“Quit it!” Vanitas snaps, waving his arms at Sora. “You can’t do it right now! Right now, you just have to have faith in her.”

He pauses, lowering one hand to scratch at his chin. “Unless you don’t believe she can _really_ do it...”

Sora pauses as well, mid-thought. _Does_ he believe in her? Trust her? Yes. That she can do this...he doesn’t know. It’s too easy, to be afraid for her, with all they’ve gone through these recent years. 

(How he keeps losing her.)

A loud snort. Sora looks up, startled, to see Vanitas shaking his head. “ _Lights_. Always so delicate.”

“Stop being a jerk,” Sora shoots back.

“Impossible. It’s who I am.”

“Sure it is.”

“Hm. All right.” Vanitas looks him up and down. “That’s why.”

“What?”

 

“Need to step away for now.” Vanitas shrugs, physically stepping back as well. “You got some other people who want to talk to you.”

“Like...Roxas?” Sora’s eyes light up. He feels his heart lighten as well, at the thought. The surrounding sand seems to glow as well, almost in response to those feelings. 

“Yeah. And someone else.”

There are people sitting up on the paopu tree. Two of them, right next to each, in Organization coats. 

Sora rushes up the stairs to meet them. 

Roxas looks up first. Hops down to walk up to him. “Sora.”

“Roxas! And...?”

The second person is a girl. She hops off too, going over to stand next to Roxas. Black hair, purple-blue eyes, familiar, how does he know her?

Oh. That’s right. 

“You’re the girl from my dreams!” Almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, Sora blushes as Roxas laughs from next to him. “Not like that!” 

The girl in question smiles in response. “I’m Xion.”

 _Xion._ The name just feels _right_ , the surrounding soft light seeming to glow brighter due to its mention. 

“Xion.” Sora sticks out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you!”

She carefully accepts his hand and just holds it, instead of shaking it. There’s something right about the motion, the touch. Like a puzzle piece Sora didn’t even know was missing being slipped right into place. 

“Oh...”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sora.”

“Not that it’s not good to meet you, but...” Sora scratches at the back of his head. “Why are you here?”

“We wanted to help you.” Xion smiles, almost bouncing as she turns to Roxas. “You first.”

“Yeah,” Roxas agrees. He smiles, it’s so so bright. Much happier than any other smile Sora’s ever seen on his face before. It’s...Sora feels his heart warm. Hot as fire in his chest. 

“Take this.” Roxas offers him a closed hand. Sora reaches back and he drops a small ice-cream stick into his outstretched palm. Still slightly sticky, marked with the words _Winner_. “It’s dangerous to go alone.”

Xion giggles. “Roxas, that’s a _stick_.”

Roxas huffs. “Well, he’ll need it. Aren’t you going to give him anything?”

“Oh, right!” Xion digs through her pockets, until she pulls out a shell. A Thalassa shell, like the ones that make up Kairi’s good luck charm.

She offers it to him. “Here. You might need this.”

Sora accepts the shell just as carefully as she gives it to him. “Thank you. Both of you.”

A thank you for more than just an ice cream stick and a shell. 

A thank you for _everything._

“No, _thank you_ , Sora. For sheltering us, for this chance you’re giving us.”

Sora puts his hands up behind his head, after a brief shake of said head. “No need to thank me. It’s only what you deserve.”

Roxas elbows Xion, smiling. “See? I told he wouldn’t accept your thanks. He makes the _best_ other.”

Xion laughs again. “Yes, and I never doubted you!” She points at her own head. “Got it _memorized_?”

They all laugh at that. 

Sora wishes...wishes with all his heart, that this moment could last forever. Laughter and friendship under a cloudless blue sky. 

Home. Destiny Islands.

He wants this _so bad_. With all of his friends. 

(A reminder. This is what you’ve been fighting for.)

 

“Sora.” Sora looks over, to meet Roxas in his blue eyes. The boy is suddenly serious. All traces of laughter gone. 

“We have to go now.”

Sora nods back. “Where are you going?”

Roxas points to the sky. “Out there. Our friend...he needs us.”

“The rest of my heart is out there too,” Xion says quietly, placing both hands over her chest. “I...would like to be whole.”

“Go. Save your friend.” Sora smiles. “I believe in you. Both of you.”

Roxas steps back, to stand at Xion’s side. 

“We’ll see you on the other side.”

“See you there,” Sora says quietly, as they break apart in shards of blue and white light. Much like how Kairi had earlier, two spirals circling each other as they disappear into the blue sky of Destiny Islands. Of Sora’s heart. 

 

“Are you ready now?” Vanitas’ voice comes from behind him. 

Sora sighs, shoulders slumping. He turns to face his Dark twin, plastering a smile on his face as he does so. “Yeah. As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Vanitas studies his face, clever red eyes taking in every detail. Every twitch. 

“No need to fake it for me, Sora. I know the _real_ you.”

“Fake what?”

Red eyes narrow. A sneer. “ _Weak_.”

Sora can’t help but flinch at that. Yes, weak. He’s always been so weak, without his friends. Alone...what can he do?

“Not like that...man, you’re so _dumb_ sometimes.”

Vanitas whacks his hand against his forehead. Glares at Sora. 

“You’re stronger than the rest of your stupid friends. Why do you saying you’re weaker, when you’re the strongest of all?”

“Because I’m _not_ ,” Sora says helplessly, shaking his head, “Not without them.”

Vanitas huffs, shaking his head back. “Whatever. You won’t listen to me. But...” He raises a finger, “what if I could help _you_ help your friends?”

Sora’s blue eyes take a determined gleam. 

“What do I do?”

 

* * *

 

“Kairi, Kairi! Wake up!”

Kairi’s eyes flutter. Until she can finally open them up all the way. To see someone over her. A girl with blond hair and blue eyes in a white dress. Crying out her name. 

Naminé. 

Her Nobody is there, by her side. But careful not to touch her. The Naminé her age she knows, not the one from the future. 

“Naminé...how are you here?”

“Well, I was in your heart. And your heart went here, so I came here too,” Naminé explains, sniffling. About to cry, if Kairi knows her own face. But maybe Naminé is different, Kairi suddenly thinks. 

She never really got a chance to really get to know the girl, after all. 

“Where...are we?”

“...I don’t know,” is Naminé’s quiet reply. 

Kairi slowly sits up, her limbs protesting each movement. A struggle to move, a struggle she keeps on fighting. 

They’re together, alone. In a landscape that’s too familiar now. 

Dirt and dust and sand, stretching out as far as she can see in every direction. Orange and red and brown. Keyblades, all colors faded into the mildest of grays, stuck into the earth. 

The Keyblade Graveyard. 

And in its center, stands a suit of armor. Directed towards a light so bright that Kairi’s eyes burn the second she squints in that direction. At the sight, Kairi feels her heart _buzz_. A sort of deja vu. “Who is that?”

Again, Naminé replies in the negative. “I don’t know.” She tilts her head. “...Maybe we should go see?”

Kairi nods, carefully picking away across the rocks. Behind her, Naminé follows even more cautiously. Like her Nobody is afraid Kairi will break like glass, if she gets too close.

Kairi opens her mouth, about to correct that assumption.

“A Princess of Heart. And her Nobody.”

She freezes when the voice speaks. A voice that echoes, that is more of an impression in her bones than anything actually vocal. 

Shivering its way right down to her _heart._

“It was forbidden, to give Princesses of Heart Keyblades. Once.”

 

Kairi takes a step forward. Towards the armor. Her very being hums with every step she takes, an electric vibration down to her very bones. 

That hollow voice continues speaking. 

“The Keyblade Masters of the time argued that it was dangerous, would only draw attention to such delicate Lights. They claimed that the Princesses of Heart would be safer in ignorance. And so history carried on, Light passed on from Princess to Princess. Very few ever knew what they carried. Even fewer learned to use it.”

The pink and gold glow, reflecting the bright Light in the distance. Kairi shields her eyes, but doesn’t look away. Keeps moving closer. Until she’s almost close enough to touch. 

“But that wasn’t the real reason the Princesses were denied Keyblades. Not the main reason.”

“How do you know this?” Kairi finds herself asking. Moving from behind the armor, to in front of it. 

The helmet tilts itself slightly, in her direction. 

“I learned this from Riku. He himself learned it from another. Someone who I only know by the name of Ava.”

“Who are you?”

“You already know who I am.”

Kairi looks up, meeting invisible eyes. 

“You’re...me.”

 

* * *

 

“You? You don’t do anything. It’s my turn, now.”

Red eyes look Sora over carefully. “Since everyone else seems to have given you something...call it my present. ”

Vanitas hums, tapping his hands together. “To you,” he adds. Like there’s anyone else here that he could be referring to. 

“Everyone? Who’s everyone?”

“You know...” Vanitas counts off his fingers. “Roxas, Xion, Ventus...wait. That one, I almost forgot. Here’s something, from Ventus. Since he’s not here and I am...”

Vanitas drops...a necklace, over Sora’s head. There’s a green star on it, resting right next to his crown necklace. 

“To find your way.”

Sora examines it, fingers feeling along the glass edge carefully. He looks up to meet red eyes watching him just as carefully as he looked the necklace over. 

“Thanks.”

Vanitas snorts, shaking his head. Flicks a finger in Sora’s face. Not quite touching him, but close. 

“Don’t thank me, it’s from Ventus, not me.”

“You gave it to me,” Sora points out. 

“Yeah. Fine. I guess I did.”

“I need to Kairi,” Sora insists. His brow furrows as he recalls some of the other events going on. “Stop Pride. Do you know how to do that?”

“You can't,” Vanitas says, gesturing towards Sora. “You need to change all of that.”

“You just pointed to all of me, Vanitas!”

“Yeah, stop that. You’re just a heart right now. Need your body to track down the cause of all of this. You’re kinda like a Heartless. Just a naked Heart, dancing around.” Vanitas sniffs, tapping his fingers against his arm. “Weirdo.”

“So what happened to my body?” Sora asks, worried. Rubbing at his cheek. His wrist. It _feels_ like he’s in his body, but...is he?

“Well...I’ll take care of your body. You don’t need to worry about that.” An almost laugh. “I’m the shadow you cast, after all.”

“...You’ll protect my friends, right? Like you promised?”

“Of course I will.” Fangs, ever pointier. “Don’t you believe me?”

Well, Vanitas did set monsters on him and his friends, the Unversed. But apparently that’s been ten years for him and he hasn’t attacked Sora at all, here. Unlike Roxas and Sora before, after Axel died... and Vanitas helped Roxas, didn’t he? He and Xion, led them to Sora. His heart warms. 

Sora beams. “Of course!”

Vanitas sputters. “Wait, wha-”

“You promised and you’ve been helping me, even if you’ve been a bit mean about it. We’re not even fighting, anymore.” Sora stretches out a hand. “Thanks for your help.”

Vanitas slaps his hand away with a loud smack, with a scowl just as loud. 

“No. Don’t. What I am...is darkness.”

The outline of his form shakes, much like how Roxas’ and Xion’s had just a few moments earlier. 

Disappearing, to wherever hearts go, from here. From Sora. 

 

Sora calls out. “I’ll find you! Get you out of my heart!”

Vanitas turns his head, just enough so Sora can see a smile on his face. For once, not smirk, but something slightly more gentle. 

“Heh. I’ll hold you to that.”

A hum. Vanitas tilts his head upward, to the Destiny Islands sky. To an invisible sun where the light must be coming from. 

“See you...Sora.”

“I’ll see you, Vanitas.”

Like watching the Cheshire Cat disappear, in Wonderland. First the body peels away into shadow (like a dying Nobody), then the eyes still steady on Sora, and finally a flash of bright grin. Faded away into the Dark. 

Gone. Gone until Sora’s heart traps him again.  

So many good-byes, so many promises...

 

But he’ll see them again. All of them. Friends in his heart and friends not in his heart alike. Sora clutches at both necklaces, the crown and the star. 

They’ll have their happy ending. 

Even if he has to take the Keyblade up again and fight for it once more. 

 

* * *

 

“No. I _was_ you, once,” the armor corrects. “But Light forgiving, you will never be me.”

“Why? _How_?” 

(I thought you were _dead_.)

(Naminé and Vanitas both mourn you.)

The dust blows around them, as the armor, as Kairi’s _future_ self considers her next words. The Light in the distance shines ever brighter. 

“Princesses of Heart...are unique. You hold such Light in your hearts, not a shadow to be seen. The only price is never using that power to its full potential. To do so is to lose it.”

That wording... “You? I thought you said you were me?” Kairi poses. 

“I am a ghost. A lingering of Will. The reason why Princesses were never supposed to wield Keyblades.”

The armor moves, with a grinding sound. Lifting its Keyblade. Destiny’s Embrace, covered in dirt and grim, flowers barely visible under the filth. Points it in the direction of the pillar of Light. 

“Princesses are not meant to leave imprints in the Light. They carry it and it moves on. The Light does not remember the Princesses, even if the Princesses remember it. But a Keyblade wielder...with strong Will, they hold tight to all they encounter.”

 

Dust blowing. Kairi can hear Naminé breathing by her side. Listening as she is to every word the suit of pink armor speaks. 

(The future _her_.)

“Leaving...marks.” The armor shifts its helm to look at Kairi once more. “I am not supposed to be here. I am but an imprint in this Light, the Light you currently carry. The Light that lies over there.” 

The raised Keyblade gestures at the pillar. 

“Seven Lights, for Seven Princesses...become one.”

The pillar shines so very bright. Pure. Flawless. It almost makes up for the sudden shiver that runs down Kairi’s spine at the sight of it. Leaves her sick to her stomach.

How... _awful_ it is. 

“Why are you here?” Naminé asks quietly. “Why are all of the Princesses of Heart here?”

“We were careless.” The armor’s gloved hand tightens into a fist. “An individual by the name of Luxu sought to forge the X-Blade. The original blade as it was, before it was shattered by the Keyblade War.”

 

The armor shifts ever so slightly. Its, _her_ , Keyblade disappears. 

“To do so, he found the Princesses of Heart. The quickest way to get the Seven Lights was to extract their hearts and...remove the excess. Leaving only the Light behind.”

“You died,” Kairi says quietly. Barely above a whisper, yet it seems as loud as a shout in the silent desert surrounding them. “Luxu shattered your heart, to forge the X-Blade, and you died.”

“Yes.” A murmur of wind, through the hollow metal shell. “I did. Agonizing. Yet here I remain.”

Is this where her future self died? Kairi can’t help but wonder. She looks around, taking in the hard cracked ground and the pillar in the distance. The fuzzy images of Keyblades piercing the earth, their owners long gone. 

A killing ground. An _execution_ , perhaps.

What a lonely place, to die. What an _awful_ place. 

(It’s the exact opposite of home.)

 

“Luxu...who’s that?” Naminé asks. She bites at her lip, wraps her hands together. “Will he come for...Kairi? This time?”

The armor considers the question, before finally answering it. With a loud creak. 

“He has no reason to. Not when Xehanort seeks to create the X-Blade he wants, to bring forth the Lost Masters.”

“The Sins,” Kairi says. Lifts her chin, blue eyes full of determination. “We have to stop him.”

“How can you stop him, when you are here with me?” The armor inquires. An honest question. One that needs an answer. 

Kairi puts her hands behind her back, letting Destiny’s Embrace fade away. Her blue eyes stare at the pillar of Light, determined. 

“Well, try our hardest, I guess.”

 

* * *

 

“How do I leave?”

Sora closes his eyes. Focuses. Thinks of anywhere else. Corona, Ardenelle, Monster Factory, even the Keyblade Graveyard!

Hmmmmm.

Opens one eye, just to sneak a peek. Nothing. Still the same sky, ocean, and sand. 

“Uhhhhh? How?”

(You’re so dumb.)

An echo of Vanitas’ voice. Cold. Suddenly cold, right at his feet. 

Out of nowhere, a Dark Portal grows from his shadow, up around his feet. Swallowing him whole. 

 

When he opens his eyes next, it’s to darkness. Capital D Darkness, Realm of Darkness style. 

But different. Less ocean, more Dark ground everywhere he looks. Not that he can see every much, anywhere further than a foot from him is too Dark to see through. A thick misty smoke, brushing against his face and hair. 

The smell of mint (of all things) sneaks into his nose. Super _strong_ mist. He coughs. It’s so much...down here. Dreaming, again, almost. The Test that he failed. 

His heart...is cold. Yet...he listens. 

 

Not knowing fully why, just led by the tugging of his heart and the necklace around his neck, Sora dips in his hand into his pocket. Brings out the ice cream stick that Roxas gave him. 

“What do I do wi- _oh_.”

The Winner stick lengthens, widens, becoming a Keyblade.

A familiar Keyblade. 

Two Become One. 

“Oh,” Sora breathes. Again, repeating himself out of awe. Lifts the Keyblade up, examining how the light reflects off the silver and black metal. Streaked with blue, here and there. 

A weapon, a keychain, that had brought only feelings of regret and sorrow, before. After he had realized what exactly Roxas lost, in becoming one with Sora.

Now, a reminder. A reminder of the trust placed in him. 

“I won’t let you down.”

He steadies his shoulders. Continues to track on in the Dark, careful to keep his Keyblade out. Reminds him of the Underworld almost, with that shadowy mist always tugging at his feet and little orbs of almost light floating about his face. Just like it. 

A place where dead things go. Or where people die.

Why would he be here?

 

Something _looms_ out of the Darkness. From the dark mists tearing at him. 

A weird looking Heartless. Tall, with shadows draping off of it like cloak folds. Marked up with silver chains along its cloak's fringes and pink markings that surround its heart-shaped hole. Pointy, like its wearing a wizard's hat above a more round body. Its staff is just as pointy, pointy and black. Heart-shaped. 

The Heartless's body is kinda like a Flame Core or Water Core. Without either of those Heartless' corresponding elements. Just Darkness. _Pure_ Darkness. 

Like a Pureblooded Heartless. _The_ Pureblooded Heartless. Staring at him. 

 **Xmtapclmrqtnnmqcsrmbcfcpc.** The strange Heartless releases a series of sounds, for lack of better words for it. Groans, but something not. _Other._ Sora blinks, slightly lowering Two Become One. 

Heartless don’t really...make sounds. Why is it making sounds?

**Vfxapcxmtfcpc. Lmfcaprqfcpc.**

More noise that doesn’t make any sense. Sora shakes his head. “Back off!” He yells at the Heartless. Almost _snarls_ it. 

 **Fcaprjcqqxcrlmr.** The Heartless raises its staff, the staff with its ends shaped like the hole at its core.

Sora leaps forward and swipes at the monster with his Keyblade. 

It’s not there. Only an image of itself, breaking up into pink shards. The real thing floats several feet away, preparing a Fira to launch at him. 

Easy enough to bounce back, with a careful Guard. 

Face clenched in a grimace, he throws himself at the Heartless, Keyblade out and ready to tear into his new foe. 

His new foe who _won’t. Keep. Still!_

Multiple copies. Sora slices through each and every one. The Heartless refuses to fight, though, beyond the launching of the Fira balls. 

Then, it freezes. Sora swears that its yellow eyes almost widen. 

 **Xmtapcrfcmlcvfmvgjjmnclrfcsmmp**. 

Its staff fades away. So does the next prepared Fira. 

Sora blinks, but keeps his Keyblade up. Only for the thing to... _shake its head_ at him. What. 

A sweeping of its cloaked arm. 

A door appears. In the Darkness. A familiar door, a door Sora knows with every bit of himself.

“That’s...the Door to Darkness. Why?”

 **Rfgqnjaycgqlmrdmpxmt.** The Heartless slowly moves its free hand, to point one claw at the door. **lmrxcr. jcauc.**

On his chest, the green star glows. Pulling forward slightly, to the door. 

“I guess...I go through there.”

The strange Heartless does nothing to stop him, this time, letting him pass by it as he walks carefully through the dark mist towards the door. 

A last whisper. **Bcvapcrfckalvfmqfmvqrfcvaxq.**

Sora pauses. What was that? Shakes his head. Must have been nothing. 

It opens, at his touch. No need for a Keyblade, here. Sora lets Two Become One fade away, stepping forward into Light.

 

Light that eventually softens into a white blankness. Everywhere. It reminds him of...

(“In this place, to find is to lose, and to lose is to find. That is the way in-”)

Sora frowns. 

Huh. It doesn’t remind him of anything. It just is. Just...blank. Empty. 

No one around.

“Hello?”

No one to answer him.  Until there is. 

Out of nowhere. A boy. 

A boy with silver hair. He offers a hand, red scarf flapping in the wind. “Need some help?”

Sora accepts the offer hand gratefully. “Thanks. Uh...where are we?”

“Hm. On the edge of things, I guess.” The silver-haired boy frowns thoughtfully. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Um...” Sora looks around. At the blank whiteness surrounding them. “I’m...not sure why I’m here.”

“Are you looking for someone? People don’t show up here, unless they’re looking for someone.” The boy rubs at his chin. 

“Yeah...Kairi?” Sora tries. 

The boy frowns, shakes his head. Lowers his hand from his chin. “Nope. Never heard of her?”

“Riku? The King? Goofy, Donald?” At each name, the boy shakes his head in the negative and Sora feels his heart sink. 

Who is he here for, if not one of them? What name will this stranger know? A whisper. An inch in his brain. 

(Try...this one. The reason you’re here, remember?)

“How about...Skuld?”

At those words, the boy brightens. “Really? That’s great! Let me help you find her!”

“Really? You know where she is?”

(He knows her?)

“Well...there’s a door.” The boy shuffles his feet. “I can’t open it, since she has my Keyblade...but you can, I bet! Here!”

A gloved hand grabs Sora by the arm and tugs him along. Sora lets it happen, since his star points the same way. 

Until they stop. Before a door.

Another door. Purple and black covered in...goats? Goats. Huh. One that the boy rushes ahead him, gloved hand closing about the handle to yank open. 

“Here,” he says, breathless. “Here. You’ll find Skuld here.” He pauses. “You’ll bring her back, won’t you?”

“I will,” Sora says, stepping forward. 

The boy closes his eyes and breathes. “Good. Good.” Opens them again, to Sora’s eyes with his own determined blue.

“I...miss her. But not yet, say not yet.”

“I promise!” Sora says with all his heart, hand placed on his chest. 

The boy nods, satisfied. “Good. Go for it.” He pulls the handle, the bright blue handle of the fine purpley black door. 

The door opens and Sora steps through. 

 

* * *

 

“Try our hardest? I suppose...that’s all we can do in the end,” the armor thinks out loud. Moves to direct its front to the pillar once more. Lifts its Keyblade. 

“If your friends are to stand a chance...we need to destroy that.”

“How?” Kairi asks, lifting her own Keyblade as well. Fingers itching. 

“I’ll do it,” the armor decides. “My armor will be enough to protect you, once I Shotlock it.”

Her armor...around the two of them...but what about what’s inside the armor? _Is_ the armor?

“What’ll happen to you?”

The armor, her future self doesn’t answer. But then, Kairi already knows the answer, doesn’t she?

“You’ll die,” Naminé says. The words are too loud for the sudden silence. 

“I’m already dead.” There’s a gleam of _something_ in the eye slit of the armor. Something blue. “Can you forgive me, for that? For the burdens I leave for you?”

“They’re not _yours_ , they’re ours.” Kairi looks up, seeking to meet that blue glow. 

How did she change so much, to be this, in the future?

What _happened_?

“I won’t be you.” The words escape her, before Kairi fully realizes she’s saying them. 

The armor nods at her. “Yes?”

“I promise. I won’t be you,” she repeats. Like a prayer, an oath. 

“Good.”

 

“Naminé.” Gentle. Far more quiet and careful than anything else the pink armor has said, to the two of them. Slowly, it kneels next to her. Offers her the hilt of Destiny’s Embrace. “Take this.”

Naminé’s fingers hover just above the offered weapon. “Really?” she breathes. Before shaking her hand, drawing back her hand. “No, it’s not right.”

“It’s never been more right, Naminé. Here.”

A gloved hand reaches out, and carefully wraps Naminé’s fingers about the hilt. “Take this blade. Take this blade, and with it, its legacy. You are a person, with or without a heart and deserve to exist. Take this blade as proof of it and a gift to you.”

Naminé inhales at that and quickly takes back her hand. “What?”

The pink helmet inclines itself at Naminé. At the blue eyes currently looking up at it, watery. “The Keyblade is yours. Whether you use it is up to you, but it is yours. As much as it is my Naminé’s.”

“Why?”

The word hangs in the air between them, a sword ready to fall. 

The armor almost... _sighs._ “You deserve better. To live. Without guilt hanging over you.”

Destiny’s Embrace rises, pointing at the pillar of Light once more. 

“Now...to break apart our sins...”

A breath, a breath that shouldn’t be with no lungs to breathe it. Loud in her ears. 

“I wish you happiness beyond measure.”

A click. A pause. Then, everything starts to shake as the pillar falls. Shatters. Breaks and flies at them with the force of a million volcanoes. 

“Kairi!”

 

Armor closes about her arms, her legs, her stomach. Bands of warm metal, seeking to mitigate the Light rushing towards them. Chains tying her in place, supporting her limbs. 

Before it closes over her face, Kairi finds it in her to scream out one last word, “Naminé!”

Then. Nothing.

No, not nothing. _Light._

Light. Burning like fire, too hot, too warm.

(A forge. But what are they forging? Creating?)

Flashes. Of heat, of memory. Not her own, but another Kairi’s. Another life she never lived. Never will live, if she has anything to say about that. 

 

(“What’s it like having a Heart only of Darkness?”

“What’s it like having a Heart only of Light?”

“Vanitas.”

A rolling of mismatched eyes. 

“Fine. It’s like-”)

 

(“I did it!”

“Riku?” Pink eyes physically glow with excitement.

“I found a way! We can bring Sora back!”

“How is that-?”)

 

(“Naminé.”

“ _Yes, Kairi?_ ”

“If I die...I want you to have my body.”

_“Don’t say that! You won’t die.”_

“But if I do...don’t feel bad.” A small smile. “It’s yours.”

“ _No, I don’t-_ ”)

 

(“Do you think your Keyblade can do anything against _me?_ ”)

 

( _I’m sorry._ )

( _Good-bye._ )

 

* * *

 

The door opens, as they always do, to an entirely new world. 

A world he’s seen before, if only briefly. A world of sky and sea, blue and blue. As far as Sora can see, in all directions. 

Drip, drop. Running through the shallow water is just like jumping in puddles. Droplets flung everywhere, and it’s noisy. Really noisy. 

Awfully noisy for a place that has no one around but him. Not even a Heartless. 

Until...

People! A cat and Skuld! Talking to each other. 

Sora breaks out into a sprint, puddles splashing even louder. But the two seem too involved in their conversation to catch the interloper coming up behind them. 

 

“So you’re going to leave your friends behind?” The little cat says, waving its arms at Skuld. “All of them?”

“You can’t talk, Chirithy. You’re leaving a friend of your own alone, staying here.”

“What happened to _your_ Chirithy? They should be having this conversation with you, not _me!_ ” 

Skuld turns her head away, her face pointed towards the watery floor. “...I don’t know. Where the rest of my friends are, I suppose. Gone.”

“But you don’t _have_ to go away. Please don’t go away.”

Go away? What are they talking about? Maybe he should say something...

“Skuld!” Sora hollers, waving wildly at her. Before he remembers...she can’t see him. Oops. “Skuld!”

Skuld’s head jolts up. She spins, directing her face towards him. “Sora!?”

“Hi!”

The cat’s blue thread eyes widen, pointing a stumpy limb. “It’s you! You keep wandering in here all the time!”

“What?” Sora blinks. All the time?

“Sora, you shouldn’t be here.”

 

“Right...” he looks around. Water and sky, looking exactly the same as each other. “Where is here, by the way?”

“You don’t know? How did you get here, if you don’t know?” Skuld rubs at her eyes, still covered by the blindfold. 

A sheepish grin. Sora puts his hands behind his head. “Uh...It was an accident.”

Skuld sighs, shaking her head. “I can’t beli- no, you know what? I can _believe_ that you would wander into here by complete accident.”

“Yeah,” Sora agrees. He smiles hopefully. “And here is...?”

“The Final World,” the cat’s high-pitched voice answers. It waves its arms, indicating everything around them.

“Uh, the Final World?”

“There’s nothing beyond this. Beyond death. This is where hearts that persist end up. Ones with people holding onto them,” this ‘Chirithy’ lectures. “You’ve been here before, wandering between here and the Station of Awakening...but I let that slide.”

“Wait, death?”

“Yes, death. What else did you think this place was?” Chirithy crosses its arms, hopping slightly in place. 

Sora scratches his head. “Well...I didn’t really think about it. But I’m dead!?”

“No, you’re not,” Skuld’s calm, reasonable voice cuts in. She bows slightly, to the little cat creature, hands on her thighs. “Can you let it slide once more, Chirithy? He has people waiting for him.”

“Skuld...why are you here?”

She smiles, a bit sadly. “Well, I died.”

“ _What_ !? But, but-!” Sora waves his arms. “You can’t _be_! I’m looking for you!”

“Pride has my body now. It would be better to let me go, let me die,” Skuld says quietly. “I can’t hurt you there.”

“But Pride’s still back there, we need you.” Well, Sora actually isn’t sure about the entire Pride thing, but Skuld can’t die because of it, she _can’t_. It would be like him dying of Rage Form, he’s pretty sure. 

“You can still go back, Skuld,” Chirithy chips in. “Your friends are waiting for you!”

Sora seizes that argument gratefully. “ Yeah! What about your other friends?”

Skuld pauses. A hiccup in her thoughts and plans. 

“What about them?” 

“Aren’t you going to be leaving them behind too?”

Skuld waves a dismissive hand. “They’ll be fine without me.”

He gapes at her. That causal statement...

“No, they won’t! Not if they’re your friends.”

 

“We haven’t been...I don’t know them very well. We didn’t travel together long.”

Sora shakes his head firmly, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“It’s not the length of time that matters, spent together. Just that you were together, enough to become friends.”

He’s traveled so many worlds, a number that’s hard to keep track of. Stayed on some longer than others. Made friends on all of them. But despite that, he can’t imagine trying to purposefully leave anyone behind. Like Skuld apparently wants to. 

“I’m not a very good friend,” Skuld confesses. She lowers her face towards the wet, wet ground. “I’ve...been mean. Cruel. Said things I shouldn’t have said.”

“Did you apologize?”

“Not...all of them.”

“You need to stay, so you can do that.”

Skuld shakes her head. Takes a step back. Denial. “I can’t. I can’t.”

Sora steps towards her. Almost close enough to touch, to hug, if he wanted to. He doesn’t. Does nothing but hold out his hands. Offering all that he can, his memories, his hands, his words. 

“Don’t you remember? What you told me, after...Will died?”

(“Skuld...how can I...how can I keep going?”)

“We do our best. The best we can,” he repeats, the words soft on his lips. “You told me that, remember? And I think...you should remember that for you too.”

Skuld makes a sound. A high-pitched, almost muted wail. Keening. 

“I can’t. I can’t let go!”

“But you don’t have to.” Sora places a hand over his heart. “You can keep them here. Because hearts have a power beyond anything else I’ve ever known.”

(“Baymax...is here.”)

Tears. Tears running down her face. She places her face in her hands, _sobbing_. An ugly sound, snorting and snuffling all together. 

He waits it out, patiently. 

Until the crying dies down and Skuld’s head lifts from her hands. Tear tracks running all the way down her cheeks. 

“Sora...” A word, a breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

Deserve? Sora pauses. That seems almost like something Riku would say. “Skuld...it’s not about deserve. It’s about friends. And we’re friends, remember?”

“Are we?” A snotty sniffle. 

“Of course we are.”

“Alright.” A weak, shaky smile. Flashed super quick towards him. “If you say so, it must be true.”

“Of course it is.”

 

“But my friends...” Skuld claws at her skirt. Staring off in the horizon. “My old friends.”

“What were they like?” Sora asks. Almost urges. Anything to get her off the edge. 

“Well...last time I saw my closest friend, he had a red scarf. And he had silver hair, blue eyes...” Skuld taps her chin, thinking. But that’s alright, he doesn’t need any more details, because that description sounds really familiar!

“I know that boy!”

“Really? You’ve met him before?”

“I saw him.” Saw his ghost, Sora guesses. If he’s...gone. _Not yet, not yet._ Yeah, he won’t let her leave. Not yet. “What’s...what’s his name?”

Skuld smiles. Sad. “His name,” she breathes, “was Ephemer.”

“Can you tell me more about him?” Sora offers his hand. Leaves it hanging in the air. Waiting. 

 _You don’t have to forget about him_ , are the words lying underneath. Sora...refuses to forget. They told him to forget Roxas, even as they threw him in his face. Told him that it didn’t matter, even when it mattered the most, of everything. 

But he refuses. He’ll remember, even if it’s the last thing he does. 

“I’d like that.”

Her hand reaches out. Wraps her fingers about a smaller wrist. 

Connection. 

_Hello._

_Sora._

_I’m afraid._

_That._

_I’m._

_AFRAID._

_VFXSGSRFCXJCAUCKC._

_gsmlrlccsalxmlcqfcjn._

 

* * *

 

A white nowhere. One where a boy with silver hair and a red scarf floats about uselessly. The same boy in red sighs. “Well, that’s that. Just what I need to get her back.” 

A snap of his fingers. A red scarf drops to the ground. The boy’s form peels away, revealing a tall stranger covered head to toe in black. 

Shaking his head. “Skuld, Skuld, did you _really_ think you could escape the consequences of your actions that easily? Ha! No.”

“No.” The Master of Masters breathes. “This story isn’t over. Not yet. You’ll become what you were meant to be. You _all_ will.”

White. Empty. But for the shape of a black heart, far above his head. A familiar mark. _His_ mark. 

“I will have them back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun drinking game: every time someone calls out Kairi's name, take a drink. (Please don't do that.)
> 
> I used Braingle.com (keyword cipher) to encode all of the Heartless messages. It's not necessary to understand any plot, but it does add extra flavor if you translate.  
> The Keyword? Well, I've already give you that... (Hint: the summary!)


	36. ONE SKY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superbia  
> Stage Two: Valkyrie, Chooser of Fate. Chooser of the Slain.   
> Tips: Defeat your chosen foe as quickly as possible, to get the chance to face the Valkyrie herself!  
> Defeated: -
> 
> Can you carry your Burden of Love, Legacy, or Loss?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready your battle music! It's part one of two, for the maze battles!

The Final World is an odd place. Odder still that Skuld still looks like herself, she knows. Instead of a slowly shattering star. She’s just a heart, right now, after Superbia took her body for itself. 

(Did it? Or did she just hand it over, without a fight?)

Everything is so bright here. Bright and visible, clear to see, to see like she hasn’t seen in months. 

Sight is back, as a heart. The heart can see, even if the body cannot. 

 

Sora...looks young. Not as young as his speech or thought-processes had led her to believe, but still young. 

Brown hair, blue eyes. A bright smile. She drinks in every detail she can, to remember. To remember before he returns her to her broken body. Because he will.

He promised to bring her back and he keeps his promises. His heart sings it and she...believes it. In a way Skuld hasn’t believed in anything for a long time. 

 

Chirithy’s next words bring her out of her thoughts with a douse of reality. 

“Do you have a way back?”

Sora’s sheepish face and the scratching of the back of his head is all the answer Skuld needs. She sighs, shaking her head. Fondly, with a smile on her face. 

“Only to be expected...”

“You came here without knowing how to get back?” Chirithy cries out, waving their arms. 

“I wasn’t planning on going back,” Skuld reminds the Dream Eater. 

Chirithy’s ears droop. “That’s true...but I’m glad you’re going back now!” Their ears perk up once more, as the Dream Eater claps their paws together. 

She smiles. “I’m glad too.”

Blue threaded eyes look up at her seriously. “You  _ really  _ need to find your Chirithy, Skuld. They’ll be able to help you!”

She looks away. “I know...but I...”

“I’ll help!” Sora punches the air. “We’ll look for them together.”

Skuld laughs. A watery sound. “Alright,” she agrees, “But we  _ really  _ need to go back now, your friends need you.”

“Need  _ us _ ,” Sora corrects, hands on his hips. “You’re helping, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Really, how could she forget? 

“So, Chirithy, how do I get back?”

“You use your Keyblade,” Chirithy and Skuld say at the same time. They exchange glances, mildly perturbed.

Sora isn’t perturbed at all, nodding his head firmly. “Yeah, that makes sense. Just open a door, like Ephemer told me.”

He summons his Keyblade and  _ focuses  _ with eyes closed. Around him, the water lights up in the shape of a glowing crown. 

And there’s a door. 

There. Waiting. 

Sora opens his eyes and gives a satisfied nod. Tromps over to the door. Waves at Skuld. “Let’s go!”

Skuld lingers, like the doubt chewing away at the inside of her. “Sora...I’m only a heart. I’ll be inside of you, not really helping. Do you still want this?”

“So you’ll be like Ven?” Sora nods, not really expecting an answer. “That’s okay, you can come anyway. You being there will help.”

Like before, he offers his hand. Like before, she accepts. 

 

And the Final World washes away in  _ Light.  _

She blinks. Even though she’s not using her eyes to see. Old habits die hard. The ground is soft under her feet. Her newly bare feet. Not wet, not much. 

The world of his heart...its skies are blue blue  _ blue.  _ And the sea underneath it just as blue. 

Sandy beaches, strange trees that have leaves only on the top and bare trunks...

So bright, so beautiful.

 A peaceful place. A bright place, full of healing Light. Good for rest. Just a few moments spent on these glowing sands and Skuld can already feel Sora’s heart working its magic. Relaxing her back, boosting her energy and lost power.

 

A whisper of a voice. Familiar...but far younger than she recalls it being. “ _ Here, have your body back, Sora. Punch Xehanort for me.” _

Who is that voice...?   
_ “I will. _ ” Sora’s answer is as confident as the rest of him. As this sturdy heart she now resides in, surrounded by warm warm sands. 

She closes her eyes. 

_ Patience _ , Skuld reminds herself. She’ll get there eventually. 

(She’ll have her friends back once more.)

 

* * *

 

Skulu watches impassionately, as the collected ‘alliance’ strikes the final blow to ‘Superbia.’ Or rather, the Archangel part of Superbia.

She flexes her fingers, feeling the nearly invisible strings attached to them. With each wiggle, the Archangel moves too, struggling to fight. 

Nothing more than an oversized puppet, fueled by the Seven Lights that Luxuria had gathered Before. By the Lux from the guild of ages past. Now that someone has released those Seven Lights...the power is gone. Lacking. 

The Archangel  _ limps _ . Metaphorically, if not literally. All that is left is for the ‘alliance’ to finish it off entirely. To clear the floor for the next stage. 

 

The Archangel’s role is over, now that her opponents have shattered it. From inside out and outside in, at the same time. What an accomplishment. Releasing the gathered Lux everywhere. 

From below it’ll look like stars falling from the heavens. Pieces of Light, pieces of gathered Lux, shattered and scattered about the battle-grounds of the fights that will soon begin. Light enough to build a body with, to create Life itself.

But enough about that Light. Skulu is not here for Light or what comes out of that Light. 

No, she’s here to Choose. 

 

Stage two: Chooser of the Slain. The Valkyrie’s time to carefully pick the perfect opponents to face each other. Clashes between Light and Dark engineered specifically for the forging of the X-Blade. 

By the man who stands next to her. Master Xehanort. 

(The Scapegoat.)

“I cannot help but wonder...what is your goal in joining yourself with mine?” The Scapegoat may not be wise, but he is clever and keen to gain answers for the unexplainable.  

_ Fate must happen. _

_ They seek to Prevent. _

_ You seek to Carry Out.  _

 

“Ah. I see. What do you get out of this, I suppose?”

Skulu ignores him to step forward, summoning her remaining Keyblade.  _ No Name.  _ the Keyblade gifted by her Master. Speaks. 

_ As foretold. _

_ Let the battles. _

_ Begin. _

 

“So they shall,” the Scapegoat agrees with her. Gold eyes examine her carefully. Still searching for answers. Answers she is not interested in revealing. 

(Stupid, silly Scapegoat. You have no idea what’s coming.)

(What you will serve as the foundation for.)

The Scapegoat in turn, wiggles his fingers, Use his own Keyblade to forge the walls of the labyrinth they shall fight in. 

Disappears in a flash of shadow, to give his...speech. 

 

Skulu...stays behind. She’ll catch up, eventually. She has to, the Scapegoat is the Catalyst for Fate, at this time. But for right now... 

She spreads her arms. Can’t help but think,  _ will they be able to bear their burdens? To fight? Or does none of this matter, in the end? _

Skulu does not know if it is herself or the Sin within her that thinks this.

And in the end, does it really matter?

Fate will have its due. 

Her body aches for the heart that has abandoned it, but even without it...

(She’ll have her friends back once more.)

 

* * *

 

_ To Bear the Weight of Love _

 

Strelitzia opens up her eyes, to find herself face down in the dirt. 

Confusing, at first. Fuzzy. Why is she here again?

Rolling over...everything looks far more familiar that way. The Graveyard.

“Are you all right?” a strange, high-pitched voice asks her. 

She groans, slowly sitting up. “Yes.”

There’s a mouse there. A mouse with a Keyblade. Oh. Streltizia looks at his Keyblade to his face and back again. 

A  _ Master,  _ right? That’s what the others called him. 

Rises to her feet and nods to him. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” she offers, when it’s clear that the Master standing before her is expecting her to speak first. “My name is Strelitzia. What’s yours?”

“The name’s Mickey, it’s good to meet you too!” he offers her his hand. 

She takes it, giving it a good shake before quickly letting go. 

 

“Now that we’ve made the introductions,” a deep familiar voice speaks, “Strelitzia...come back.” 

Turning around...there are Elrena and Lauriam, in their black coats. Her brother offers her his hand, even across the fairly far distance. Waiting for her to come back. Go back to what Xion and Demyx freed her from. 

Strelitzia can’t help but shiver slightly. Stepping back just a little behind the Master at her side. 

Why are...his  _ eyes _ , his  _ yellow  _ eyes, they want her but they seem so empty. What happened to her brother? Her friend?

_ What happened to them _ ?

 

“Marluxia! Larxene!” the Master cries out, summoning his Keyblade. 

She frowns. “That’s not their names!”

The mouse looks confused, tilting his head at her. 

“How do you know them?” Master Mickey asks her.

“Well...he’s my brother and that’s his friend,” she points at Lauriam and Elrena, in turns. 

“Your  _ brother? _ ”

“Yes, of course.” Strelitzia wraps her arms around herself. Her very mean brother right now...what’s  _ wrong  _ with him? Him and Elrena?

Why does he seemed so shocked by that...something’s wrong. Very very wrong. 

The Master mutters. “I didn’t know any of the Nobodies still had siblings...”

She speaks up louder, to cut off his train of thought with her own. 

“What’s a Nobody?”

“Gee, you don’t know?” Astounded that she doesn’t know, very shocked. Strelitzia pushes back a spark of irritation.  _ He’s a Master _ , she reminds herself,  _ you’re supposed to be respectful to Masters.  _

“If I knew, would I be asking?” Strelitzia asks back. Quite reasonably, she thinks. 

“Oh, right. I’m sorry bout that.” Master Mickey scratches at the back of his head, looking sheepish. Which is kinda odd. How can a mouse look like a sheep?

“It’s just that...Nobodies are people that lost their hearts, you know?”

“Lost..their...hearts?” Strelitzia rubs at her shoulders. “Does that mean...?”

“They probably don’t love you anymore. They  _ can’t _ . They don’t have the heart to.”

Every word, a piercing arrow to the heart. 

Is that why...? No  _ hearts _ . How can you exist like that? How can  _ anyone  _ exist like that?

 

A Thunder charges up and strikes, the mouse just barely dodging out of the way. 

“Shut up, mouse!”

Fighting. Scythe and knives and Keyblade. Magic flying about everywhere. Without her. 

Strelitzia...she just stands there. Thinking. Her heart hurting as she does.

Their words...how they spoke to her. Cruel. They  _ hurt.  _ Hurthurthurt. Treated her awfully.

Her breathing is too loud in her ears. Thinking back to being left there, being  _ afraid _ surrounded by plants, out of food and water...

She could have died there. 

They could have killed her. 

“I love you and you hurt me! That’s not okay!”

 

Later, she’ll look back on her actions and be rightfully horrified by them. Now, she acts first, thinking only to  _ hurt.  _

In her sleeve, there’s a blade. The knife that Elrena, no,  _ Larxene _ gave her. Her fingers twist it out to fall into her right hand. 

Her other hand, which tightens about the knife handle. Then her left hand goes down, fingers entangling themselves in the zipper to open up her coat. 

She places the sharp edge right over her chest. Her heart. 

“You hurt me,” she repeats.

Two sets of yellow eyes widen. “Strelitzia!”

Master Mickey pauses in his attacks as well, turning around to see her. To see what she’s doing. “Oh no!”

Her heart pumps furiously, the beat loud in her ears. If she cuts her heart out...will she finally understand why her brother would treat her like he did?

Would she know what it means, to be  _ mean  _ to your loved ones and think it all for the best? __

Nearly impossible to imagine. Could she do it?

She’s died before. This won’t be any different. 

“Strelitzia! Don’t!” Three different voices cry out, all with the same intention. 

“Stop fighting!” she screams back. The knife presses into her shirt, enough to tear the thin cloth. 

And they do. Pause mid-fight, watching her warily. To see where she’ll go next. Carefully she lifts the blade, just enough to not be touching against her body anymore. But doesn’t put it away. Keeps the weapon out, as a reminder. 

 

Strelitzia lifts her chin. Acting braver than she actually feels, her feet shivering a little in her oversized boots. 

“I’ll do it. It’s not like you were doing anything better to me, at that castle of yours,” she says scornfully. Seeking for the weak points that her brother had, once. Does he still have them?

(Make him  _ hurt. _ )

“I was  _ protecting you,” _ he says back, lowly, fingers twitching and twisting around his pink scythe. 

A bigger echo of her own ‘kama,’ Strelitzia can’t help but catch. Is that the price of living, when you should not? Losing your Keyblade?

“Protecting me...” she says quietly. Wants to lower her eyes, but instead she lifts her chin higher.

(Be brave...)

“I never wanted you to protect me, Lauriam. I can do it myself.”

“But you died!” For the first time, this stranger in her brother’s skin, this Marluxia,  _ yells.  _

Everyone flinches in response. Except for Strelitzia, who keeps her spine straight. Sturdy, against whatever comes next.

“I let you go, I didn’t protect you, and you  _ died. _ ” Pink hair brushes outward around his skull, as he shakes his head. “To fix this...no one can be allowed to hurt you again.”

Strelitzia draws in her breath, to drop her next words like stones. Stones shattering a house made of glass. 

“That doesn’t make what you’re doing right. Still wrong.”

The ‘Nobody’  _ hisses _ . Shoulders draw back as he curls about his weapon. Petals dropping from his hair, scattered about his feet. Yellow eyes burning brighter than fire. 

_ That _ is not her brother. No, this is the  _ Marluxia  _ that the Master spoke of, fierce and hungry for what he cannot have.  _ Angry.  _

 

Strelitzia can’t help it. She steps back, in response. Pebbles rattling under her feet. 

And Elrena’s  _ there.  _ As fast as the lightning still sparking about her. Her hand grabs Strelitzia’s wrist roughly, popping the knife free with a twist. Back to its original owner, to her free hand.  

“Little girls shouldn’t play with knives that way,” Elrena (Larxene) scoffs, flipping her gifted knife between her fingers. Making it disappear with a sparkle of lightning. 

Green eyes glare. “Why do you care? You don’t have a heart, right?”

“I...” Larxene pauses. Pauses her words right along the rest of her. 

“I don’t,” she finally settles with. Looking somewhat...unsatisfied, by her own answer. 

Strelitzia wrinkles her nose. “Why do you  _ care _ ?” she repeats. Her wrist aches, still caught in Larxene’s hold. 

“I don’t!” Larxene snaps back. Tightening her grip. Strelitzia gasps at the pain, of feeling her bones grinding together in her wrist. 

“Larxene!” Marluxia snaps. Moving with a brush of petals, stopping just a foot away from the pair. 

“Why do _you_ care?” she snaps back, pulling Strelitzia up by the wrist. “Why do _I_ care? We’re Nobodies! We don’t have hearts to _care_ about one _stupid_. _Little._ _Girl!_ ”

 

Master Mickey steps forward. His Keyblade is still out, but it’s lowered. Somewhat. His face is serious, as he looks at the three of them.

“...Don’t you see?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You  _ do  _ have hearts. You  _ do  _ care.”

“But...that’s impossible!” Larxene screeches. 

Marluxia shakes his head as well. “Yes. Everyone knows that Nobodies can’t have hearts.”

“But here you are, worried about Strelitzia.” Mickey spreads out his hands. “Don’t you see? You’re  _ feeling _ , like you have hearts!”

“What does it matter?” Larxene snarls, nose wrinkling as she does so. “You still have to fight us.”

(“If anyone tells you you  _ have to _ do anything, they’re probably trying to get out of something themselves.  _ That’s  _ Demyx’s advice for laziness, right there!”)

“No. We don’t.” Strelitzia twists herself free out of Larxene’s suddenly loosened grasp. Backs up, arms spread out with her hands behind her. 

 

“Strelitzia...” Mickey starts. Gestures to Larxene and Marluxia with non-weapon gloved hand. “We need to defeat them, for them to be recompleted and get their hearts back.”

“But they already have their hearts!” she shoots back, “Didn’t you all just agree on that?”

Marluxia’s yellow eyes pierce into her own green ones. “Strelitzia, we have Xehanort’s essence within us. Defeating us will free us of that.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be that old geezer’s heart sack,” Larxene adds, with a sneer. 

“No.  _ No _ .” Strelitzia shakes her head, harder and harder in denial with each word that leaves his mouth. Orange hair flying everywhere. 

“We can fix that without killing you!”

Marluxia looks...confused. As does Larxene. “Even after we hurt you...you still argue against such a course of action?” he asks, allowing his scythe to disappear. 

 

“Murder, even if you come back from it, is still murder. You  _ still die!” _ She rubs her hands over her stomach. Where she remembers, barely, a Keyblade poking through from behind, before it was extracted. 

Leaving her to die slowly. Painfully. Watching her Chirithy vanish bit by bit from her arms, until she finally died too. 

Yes, she came back. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t die in the first place. 

“Dying doesn’t make what you did to me  _ better _ ,” Strelitzia says firmly, chin held high. “You have to stay and fix it, not hope you’ll be better after  _ dying _ .”

“I see...” Marluxia says slowly. “You said there’s another way?”

“Marluxia, you can’t be seriously considering this,” Larxene says, hands on her thrust-out hips. 

“Aren’t you?”

The blond looks aside, blinking her yellow eyes. “...yes.”

Marluxia turns to Strelitzia once more. “...what is your idea?”

Strelitzia feels her heart hum, start to pick up with excitement. She smiles. It’s not an apology, but it’s a start. They’re not hurting her, listening to her instead of ignoring her.  

Master Mickey watches carefully, but he doesn’t stop the ‘Nobodies.’

“See, it’ll be like this...”

 

* * *

 

_ To Bear the Weight of a Legacy _

 

They’re...surrounded by rock walls. For some unknown reason. Well, that’s a lie. Ajax  _ knows  _ why they’re here. They’re here to...fight. Finish what Xehanort has started, this Keyblade War of his. 

Ajax scowls. Well. This will go just  _ great _ , won’t it?

On one side there’s him, little Riku, and Ansem. Ansem’s lost his coat somehow in this mess of battlefields, that lucky jerk. Ajax still has his own on, unfortunately. 

The other side...just big Riku. The original Riku. 

“The clashes between Light and Dark...they happen at last,” Ansem breathes. 

Well, that’s certainly an explanation. Not a nice one, but supports the picture Ajax already had in his head nicely enough. They’re supposed to fight each other. To the death, one supposes. 

All to give  _ Xehanort  _ his  _ stupid X-Blade.  _

Yeah, Ajax’s not up for that. 

Ansem’s power ripples under Ajax’s skin, forcing a groan out of him in response. He rubs at the back of his aching neck. Ugh. 

Enough of this nonsense. He just wants to go  _ home.  _ Be  _ home.  _

(Naminé, Vanitas, Demyx, Skuld...I want to see you all again.)

(Once this is through.)

 

“Uuhhh.”

At the quiet groan, Ajax quickly looks all around, searching for its source. That doesn’t sound like the collection of doubles (triples?) gathered here. 

No, that sounds like...

“Naminé!” Little Riku calls out. He runs over, quickly dropping to his knees next to her still body. Over by the wall, still glowing with Light. 

Light much like that had fallen from Superbia’s collapsing form. 

Ajax makes to move as well, but Ansem acts first, waving a hand that freezes Ajax in place. Ansem’s power in Ajax’s veins, still keeping him under control. Ajax grinds his teeth and  _ glares _ at the Heartless’ back.

“Naminé?” The bigger Riku says, turning to look over as well. “How is she here? And where’s Kairi then? Or Sora?”

 Looking around like the two named will pop up at any moment. His Keyblade’s out, ready for Ansem, but he’s not looking for Ansem. Watching for him. 

 

Clearly Riku doesn’t care a bit about fighting Ansem. He only wants to find his friends. Find  _ Sora  _ and _ Kairi _ . 

Ajax bites back a snicker, seeing the look on Ansem’s face in response to that. Heh. Once upon a time, all Ansem had to do was show up and Riku would be all over that. In complete terror, but still paying attention the whole time. 

Now...Riku pays no attention to the Heartless that was once his greatest enemy. It’s pretty hilarious. 

Especially with Ansem taking such offense to it. 

Funny enough that...you know what? He’ll help Riku out, just this once. In exchange for some unexpected humor in this situation. 

Also...Riku’s not the boy he once knew, afraid of the Dark, afraid of hurting people again. He’s also not the future he once knew, who had given everything to Dark, destroyed so many Dreams in exchange for his ‘precious people.’

The seeds are there, for sure. But now?

This boy is different. And Ajax will help him, for that difference. 

 

“Go find Sora. Find Kairi.”

“How? We can’t leave until the battle’s done!” Riku shouts back. 

Ajax points over to the stone, impassable wall. Focuses. Reaches for the net over his heart. 

“You’re still his Dream Eater, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” the younger Riku shouts as well, from where he’s huddled around Naminé. 

(Acedia...I need you now.)

Each Sin has their specialty, their area of focus. Sloth’s field is that of Dreams, of Sleep. 

Misusing such power led to Naminé having to rescue him with a Dive. 

Now, it is that same power that Riku needs to seek out Sora. The connection of Heart and Dream between them. 

Ajax smiles. Pulls on what lies inside.

His yellow eyes glow brighter and brighter, rivaling the light of the burning sun far above. 

A flare, bright and final, and his eyes are  _ blue _ once more. 

Both Rikus gasp at the sight. “You...!”

He ignores them, reaching deeper. Towards the connection between Sora and the elder Riku. That of Dream Eater and Dreamer. Feeds Acedia’s power into it. Riku’s eyes widen, as suddenly, wings sprout from his back. A familiar symbol appears on his back once more. 

“Go get him.”

And with that, Riku vanishes. Going to his Dreamer, like all Dream Eaters do. 

“What...did you do?” the smaller Riku asks, head swiving between the space the bigger Riku used to and Ajax himself. Still huddled over Naminé. 

Ajax shrugs. “Sent him to Sora.”

“Impossible,” Ansem scoffs. “That cannot be, until this battle is over.”

“Yet...it is. Leaving only us here.”

If Big Riku’s with Sora and Little Riku’s watching over Naminé here...that leaves Ajax with Ansem. An enemy that will stop at nothing to ruin the Rikus’ attempts at companionship. To screw Ajax over. 

Which makes him...

 

“And you are my enemy.” Ajax narrows his blue eyes. 

Ansem almost laughs, shaking his head as he floats upwards in a familiar motion. “Do you not recall? You are  _ mine _ now, replica.”   
Ansem probably means the last word as an insult. Maybe it used to be. But it’s what Ajax is, down to his very core. 

(His heart.)

Took a long time for him to understand that. That ‘replica’ didn’t mean weakness, but instead strength. To carry on, to replicate. 

(“I trust you, Ajax.”

“Me?” No matter how many times Terra tells him that, it’s always just as unbelievable as ever.

Orange-brown eyes meet his steadily. A warm hand on his shoulder. “With my life.”)

Replicas...carry legacies. All living things do, life passed down from their parents and power from their teachers. 

Replicas take it a step further. 

Inside of him...Ajax breathes. Steadies what control he has left, over his feet. 

Ansem calls to the ghost of himself, inside of Ajax. It’s what gives the Heartless power over him. A lineage of hate and slavery, of Darkness and decades of seeing individuals as mere tools. Knowledge, for the sake of knowledge, of power. And nothing else. 

Yet there is more than one ghost within Ajax. More than one legacy. 

 

Slowly, unsteady jerk by unsteady jerk, Ajax raises Night’s Path above in his head in a familiar pose. Stretches out his hand. Mimicking the first. The oldest. 

(“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already!”)

“You will hurt no one else,” Ajax states. “Stop now. This is your last warning.”

“You seek to warn me?” Ansem laughs, the outline of his body shimmering. Darkness rising about him. “Fool.”

He raises his arms, power building. Ready to start this final battle, once and for all. 

“Sleep in Darkness.”

A smirk teases at Ajax’s lips. “Fine. You didn’t get enough last time?”

The words come easily to his lips. Loosing his bands even further. 

 

“Return to Darkness!” Torrents of Darkness shoot out of the Heartless’ body. Sweeping out to hit everyone in the area. 

Stopped only by the battle barrier Ajax’s put up. No one will run from this fight. Not until one of them has lost. 

Ajax flips over the attack, using movements and motions he hasn’t used for a long time. A front hand-spring, back on his feet again. Swirling out Dark Firaga from his free fist while Night’s Path slices forward. Cutting through Ansem’s threads and shards. 

“You like it?” He shouts. 

Ansem snarls. “Come forth!”

White gloved fingers pull at the air. Darkness climbs up the barrier, seeking a way towards the children Ajax guards. 

 

(“This is absurd. Then I shall make you see...that your hopes are nothing. Nothing but a mere illusion!”)

He hops back, feet coming in close together. Flicks his right hand away to rip free pages of some imaginary book. Peeling out illusions, from his fingers. “See my illusions!”

Shadows of other lives, coming together to take on Ansem. Surrounding him. 

“Desist!”

A flash of Darkness from the Heartless at the center of this ring drives them all back. Still accomplishing Ajax’s goal, in the process. 

The battlefield almost wobbles. The two children in the corner disappear. Hiding behind the barrier of light and sound Ajax has put up for them. An extra protection, beyond the barrier he already crafted. 

Something more solid than illusion to fight now...

Ajax flicks his fingers and spreads his legs. Already moving into his next stance.   
  


(“Whatever the cost...I’m ready to pay it.”)

Wide swinging attacks, putting his entire body into it. All of his strength. Supported fully by the earth underneath his feet. Slicing away each shadowy mine screaming for his face. “Let’s go!” Charges up a Dark Volley shotlock and hits. 

“Gotcha!” Hits and hits and hits. Every mark hitting true. Only for him to get a laugh from the Heartless in response. 

“Fool. You cannot defeat Darkness with more Darkness,” Ansem scoffs, floating above the ground, as the Darkness in question builds around him. “Submit!”

Swarming. Hungry. 

Ajax eyes the shadows, lowering his Keyblade slightly as he recalculates. 

Fine. If his Darkness, his illusions, his strength won’t do the trick... 

 

His hands wrap around each other, on the hilt of his Keyblade. Two-handed grip. He steadies his feet, keeping his eyes on Ansem. 

(“There is more to light than meets the eye, Xehanort.”)

He may be of the Dark, but every night has its stars. Its Light. 

Ansem’s eyes widen. Ajax isn’t sure what he sees, but all Ajax sees, glancing down at his own hands, is familiar brown skin. Himself. Who he has always been and always will be. No matter whose face and powers he takes up. 

“Who are  _ you _ ?”

(“Master Eraqus!”)

“I am the sum of them and I am more than the sum.” Ajax takes a step forward. “Give up your stupid goals and I won’t kill you.”

Ansem growls, rushing forward. Dark energies building in his hands. 

Ajax swings only once. It’s the only attack he has to make. 

Ajax’s strike is sleek. Smooth.  _ Final.  _

“Let the Darkness die!”

Knocks Ansem from the air, onto his knees in the dirt. Shadows fade away to almost nothing, under the too-bright Light. 

Cuts him apart, eats away at him.

“I reach for the...Darkness?”

Ansem reaches, only to find his Darkness has abandoned him. It only serves the strong, after all. 

 

“You. Lose.” Ajax spits out, a bitter satisfaction coating his tongue. Allowing Night’s Path to vanish from his hands, stepping closer to his fallen foe. “Where is your ‘great knowledge’ now,  _ Seeker of Darkness _ ?”

“You know nothing.” None of the scorn from before, just a bone-weary exhaustion. A half-hearted denial, empty of any conviction.

“You confirmed only your own bias,” Ajax shoots back. “Did you even  _ try _ ? Or did you just let fate happen, without even attempting to change it?”

Ansem’s silence is answer enough. 

To take a page from Vanitas’ book, what a  _ loser.  _

Ajax shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s about what I expected.” He makes to turn away, only to pause when the Heartless speaks once more. 

“Part of me...wanted to defy fate, but when the others betrayed us....I found I did not care,” Ansem admits. 

The Heartless shakes his head. Fading faster now. “After that...nothing seemed to matter anymore.”

Ajax’s arm itches, the memory of shattered bone coming to the forefront. His knees also feel cold, recalling for themselves being forced time and time again to the ground. Humiliation and pain together, along with the awareness that the Heartless just saw him as a stand-in for Riku, to take his frustrations out on. They burn, all of it. 

Yet...

It’s not forgiveness, scratching away at his heart. Not even close. 

But he understands. Understands how everything can seem so much more bleak, alone. Why would one choose to fight fate, if they had no one to fight it for?

Yet...

Ansem made his choice, like Ajax did his. There is nothing he can do now. 

“You needed to find meaning. Not just knowledge,” Ajax finally says. He puts a hand on his chest. “Like I did.”

“And still you seek? After finding that?” Ansem presses, darkness flaking away faster now. Returning to whence he came.

Ajax meets gold eyes, the eyes of his tormentor, head on. Unflinching. “Never stopped. Never will.”

“Good.”

Those same gold eyes close ever so briefly, before opening again to focus on his face. A new spirit to them. One that is rapidly fading away, like the rest of him. 

“It is time to move on, boy....” He stretches out his arm, not even a threat. Just...an echo. Reaching for something to reach for, before vanishing forever. “There is more to seek...so go forth now, and seek it.”

Darkness ripples. Reclaiming its own. The Heartless dies as all Heartless do, under the Keyblade, breaking apart into smaller and smaller fragments until there is nothing left. 

 

Nothing left but a heart that will now return its already sealed in stone fate.

And what’s left of Ansem inside of him. That shade’ll be no trouble now. 

Ajax turns his back. 

Leave the dead to the dead. Ajax may carry the ghosts of many generations on his shoulders, but his self-appointed duty has always been to the living. 

His fingers twitch. Rip away the illusions hiding Riku and Naminé away. Walks over to where the two huddle. Watching him. 

 

He kneels on one knee, offering a hand. 

“Naminé, Riku. Are you ready to go?”

Two sets of blue eyes stare up at him. They exchange quick looks before returning to his face. Ajax waits. 

Predictably, it’s Naminé’s small hand that reaches out first for his. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs. 

Ajax feels a smile on his face, as he shakes his head. 

“No, thank  _ you _ .”

 

* * *

 

_ To Bear the Weight of Loss _

 

Naminé’s on the ground. In the earth, dirt marring her snow-white hide. 

But how? She was flying...wasn’t she?

She groans, and would have flopped over, if not suddenly reminded by loud quacking curses of who exactly resided on her back at the moment. 

“What happened?”

“I dunno. But I think we defeated Superbia!”

“That’s great. But where’s Sora now?”

“Oh gee, maybe we should go look for him?”

“Where?” Donald demands. Stamping his foot into the ground, as he hops off of her. Goofy quickly follows him, Jiminy clutching for dear life onto his hat. 

“Well...let’s figure out where to start looking first. “

They’re surrounded by walls of stone. With paths branching off in every direction. A center point of some forbidding maze. 

Naminé sniffs the air. Testing. Where is everyone? Where did they all go?

Why, down the other paths, of course. But which path will lead to the raging Sora? 

She has no idea which way to go, and Sora’s companions clearly do not as well, glancing around at open path. 

Alone. With nowhere to go. 

(“Maybe if you had loved her more, she would have stayed.” A sneer. “Maybe she would have  _ lived _ .”)

Dragons can’t weep.

But Naminé wishes they could, her head lowered onto her front limbs. 

 

The sound of feet hitting against the earth, the hard rock. Her ears prick up and Jiminy notices almost right away. 

“Say! Do you hear something?”

Goofy checks too, ears going up. “I hear it too!”

“Who is it?” Donald cries out, bouncing on his webbed feet. 

Too soon, the owner of those feet come into view. Naminé’s eyes widen.

_ Sora. _

_ Sora! _

“Sora!” The three cry out. Goofy and Donald rush Sora, burying him in a hug. Jiminy hops onto his shoulder. 

“Donald, Goofy!” he cries back, throwing arms around them in a returned embrace. “Jiminy!”

Happy, joyful, together.

Naminé’s heart aches. When will that be hers again? Will it ever be hers again?

(She’ll fight to make it so.)

She hums, whacking her tail ever so slightly against the ground. He’s here, he’s here at last! Free of the Darkness that had taken him. 

She’s happy for him. 

(Really.)

She sniffs, taking every detail she can about the boy. About what burdens lie on his shoulders now.

 

Sora...he’s carrying a heart within his. Two hearts, very familiar. One that she failed and the other...

“ _ Skuld!” _ she cries out with the voice she doesn’t have. 

The heart sings back, in a way that only Skuld’s knows how to do. Sora pauses in his step, placing a hand over his heart. 

“Sora?” Donald asks, stopping as well. Goofy looks between Naminé and the boy, examining both carefully. 

“I think...Naminé’s got something to tell Sora? Or Sora, you got something to tell Naminé?”

“Naminé...” Sora’s blue eyes look her straight-on, oddly serious. “Skuld says, don’t worry about her. She can do this.”

Naminé shakes her large head, gentle and small so to knock none of the trio over. No. No. That’s not what she meant. 

Not at all. 

She rises to her feet, and can’t help but notice that they all flinch instinctively at the sight. Only to be expected. Most large beasts like her current shaping only seek to harm. To kill. 

Still hurts, an ache in her weak smudge of a heart. 

 

She limps forward, with clawed and stumped forearm dragging herself closer. So big, have to be careful not to squish them in this form. 

(Maleficent had laughed at her, the first time she became dragon, how delicate she was in each movement. Naminé ignored her mistress’ scorn and kept her caution, until the transformation wore off entirely.)

(She knows the consequences of carelessness all too well.)

(It was her first crime, after all. After the crime of her existence.)

Moves just enough, to nudge Sora’s chest with the tip of her snout. Sora staggers a little back, but keeps his hands empty of any weapons. Even though his companions don’t summoning staff and shield respectively. 

“Be careful, Sora!”

Naminé opens her mouth and  _ breathes  _ on him. Not her Ice Breath, but something else entirely. Something still entirely magical, for Dragons are inherently magical much like Nobodies. 

 

A wish. A protection, that means she means with all her heart. For both Sora and the hearts residing inside of him. 

“ _ Skuld...please come back alive.” _

Exhausting, tiring, to lose. Naminé is done with loss, but loss is not done with her, it seems. 

(“I...would like to be her friend.”)

_ “Sora, Skuld, Vanitas...I gift you my heart,”  _ she breathes, putting all of her power into a protection spell. A glowing white heart lights up around Sora. The Light of her heart. 

“ _ Please be careful with it. _ ”

“Whoa! Did you...just shield me?”

Naminé nods gently.

“Oh, thank you, Naminé!”

The thank you she never got to hear...Naminé backs up, to lower her head onto the ground once more. 

“Yeah, thanks, Naminé,” Goofy and Donald chime in. Jiminy even tips his hat off to her. 

“Well, we’ve got to go now! Stop Xehanort!”

_ “Go.”  _ She will be waiting. Watching. Closes her eyes, hearing the pitter-patter of feet moving away from her. 

(I hope...)

(I hope this will end well.)

“ _ It has to. _ ”


End file.
